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This undid him, for the Queen, or her councillors, thinking from his first page that he had declined the honor, read no further, and appointed another man. Waster Lunny is still alive, but has gone to another farm. Sanders Webster, in his gratitude, wanted Nanny to become an Auld Licht, but she refused, saying, "Mr. Dishart is worth a dozen o' Mr. Duthie, and I'm terrible fond o' Mrs.
Upon my soul, Aaron, he is running away with all my self-respect and destroying my sense of humor." What had so crushed the dominie was the affair of Francie Crabb. Francie was now a pupil, like Gavin Dishart and Tommy, of Mr. Cathro's, who detested the boy's golden curls, perhaps because he was bald himself.
"I would swap the drought for rain, though it comes down in a sheet as in the year twelve." "And like a sheet it'll come," replied Dow, "and the deil'll blaw it about wi' his biggest bellowses." Tosh shivered, but Whamond shook him roughly, saying "Keep your oaths to yoursel', Rob Dow, and tell me, hae you seen Mr. Dishart?" "I hinna," Rob answered curtly, preparing to drive on.
"Ay, Rob," said Chirsty, genially, for gossip levels ranks, "you're just in time to hear a query about the minister." "Rob," said the Glen Quharity post, from whom I subsequently got the story, "Mr. Dishart has fallen in in what do you call the thing, Chirsty?" Birse knew well what the thing was called, but the word is a staggerer to say in company. "In love," answered Chirsty, boldly.
Dishart this very day." "The right man to take it to," replied the maid, sullenly, "for it's his ain." "Gavinia!" "Well, it was Mrs. Dishart that lended it to me." "I I never saw it on the manse shelves." "I'm thinking," said the brazen Gavinia, "as there's hoddy corners in manses as well as in blue-and-white rooms."
"Prisoner at the bar," he said, "hae ye onything to say why sentence of death shouldna be pronounced against you? She doesna answer. She kens death is her deserts." By this time he had forgotten probably why his victim was dumb. "Prisoner at the bar, hand back to me the soul o' Gavin Dishart. You winna?
If You had the power, how did You no stop this woman working her will on the minister? You kent what she was doing, for You ken a' things. Mr. Dishart says You ken a' things. If You do, the mair shame to You. Would a shepherd, that could help it. let dogs worry his sheep? Kill her! It's fine to cry 'Kill her, but whaur's the bonfire, whaur's the pool?
But at agiasthaeto, of which you made two syllables, you cried, and Margaret snatched you up, thinking this was some new ailment. After I had explained to her that it was the Lord's Prayer in Greek, she would let me take you to the school-house no more. "Not much longer could I have taken you in any case, for already we are at the day when Adam Dishart came back.
Dishart carried the Bible out o' the pulpit instead o' leaving that duty as usual to the kirk-officer. Weel, Tammas, being precentor, has a richt, as you ken, to leave the kirk by the session-house door, just like the minister himsel'. He did so that afternoon, and what, think you, did he see? He saw Mr. Dishart tearing a page out o' the Bible, and flinging it savagely into the session-house fire.
But we have a good many ideas in common after all, have we not, though you are only a minis I mean, though I am only a gypsy?" There fell between them a silence that gave Babbie time to remember she must go. "I have already stayed too long," she said. "Give my love to Nanny, and say that I am coming to see her soon, perhaps on Monday. I don't suppose you will be there on Monday, Mr. Dishart?"
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