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Updated: June 24, 2025
He canna lay 's finger on onything o' mine but my servan' lass, cried the weaver, slapping his thigh-bone for there was little else to slap. Meg, at the moment, was taking her exit-glance. She went straight to Miss Napier. 'Willie MacGregor's had eneuch, mem, an' a drappy ower. 'Sen' Caumill doon to Mrs. MacGregor to say wi' my compliments that she wad do weel to sen' for him, was the response.
The session clerk once presented to the court a letter from a worthy but wandering temperance orator, craving permission to give his celebrated "dog talk" in St. Cuthbert's on a Sabbath afternoon. "I move that the kirk be no' granted," said Archie M'Cormack. "He'll be revilin' the ways o' men far abune him. Ma faither aye took a drappy ilka nicht, haudin' his bonnet in his haun' the while.
'Kirsty, he said, 'ye're 'maist as strong's a man, and I wudna wullinly ony but oor ain three sels laid finger upo' what's left o' Steenie: are ye up to takin the feet o' 'im to fess him hame? Here's what'll mak it 'maist easy! Kirsty rose at once. 'A drappy o' milk, and I'm ready, she answered. 'Wull ye no tak a moofu' o' whusky yersel' father? 'Na, na; I want naething, replied David.
Til hae a wee drappy o' whusky if ye've got it gude, said McIntosh, cautiously, 'but I dinna care for they wines that sour on a body's stomach. McIntosh having thus graciously assented, Vandeloup took him up to the Club, and introduced him all round as the manager of the famous Pactolus.
"It maitters little compairateevely what a man lives upo'," said Cupples sententiously, "sae it be first-rate o' 'ts ain kin'. And this is first-rate." "Tak' a drappy mair, sir." "Na, nae mair, I thank ye." "They'll be left, gin ye dinna." "Weel, sen' them ower to Mr Bruce," said Cupples, with a sly wink. "I s' warran' he'll coup them ower afore they sud be wastit. He canna bide waste."
"Eh, preserve's! sic a nicht, Peter Whaup!" said Peter's wife to Peter as he sat by the fire with his cutty in his teeth. "It'll be an awfu' spate." "Ay will't," rejoined Peter. "There's mair water nor whusky already. Jist rax doon the bottle, gudewife. It tak's a hantle to quawlifee sic weet's this. Tak' a drappy yersel', 'oman, to haud it oot." "Ye hae had plenty, Peter. I dinna want nane.
This body's nothing but a wheen claes to my sowl; and no verra weel made either, for the holes for my een war forgotten i' the makin'. I'm bit jokin', lassie; for it was the Lord's han' that made and mismade my claes; and I'm weel willin' to wear them as lang's he likes. Jist mak a drappy o' stoorum to me. Maybe it'll ile my thrapple a bit. I winna be lang ahin Eppie Shawn."
Will I fess a drappy o' milk? 'Gie me a drink o' water, gin ye please, said Robert. She brought it. He drank, and felt better. A baby woke in a cradle on the other side of the fire, and began to cry. The girl went and took him up; and then Robert saw what she was like. Light-brown hair clustered about a delicately-coloured face and hazel eyes.
Maybe I'm ower blin' to hae the rheumatize; or to smell the auld weet thack whan there's been a scatterin' o' snaw or a drappy o' rain o' the riggin'!" "I didna want to anger ye, Tibbie. A' that ye say deserves attention. It would be a shame to lat an auld body like you " "No that auld, Maister Bruce, gin ye kent the trowth!"
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