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Updated: May 7, 2025
But they hae ta'en him intil a dreidfu' place, and whether they hae left a haill inch o' skin upon's body, is mair nor I can tell; but they hae rackit him, and pu'd o' 's nails aff, maybe them a', and�-" "Good heavens!" exclaimed Mrs Forbes, with a most unusual inclination to hysterics, seeing something terrible peep from behind the grotesque report of Isie, "what do you mean, child?"
"Ow, ay; nae doobt. But aneath this lift, and breathin' the houpfu' air o' this divine darkness." Annie did not quite understand him. "I maun gang back to Alec," she said. "Ye'll come ower the morn, Mr Cupples, and hear a' aboot him?" "I will do that, my bairn. Hoo do they ca' ye�-for I forget names dreidfu'?" "Annie Anderson."
It was a fine nicht, but dreidfu' cauld. Juist as I was gaitherin' up the twa-three bit duds, I heard voices ower the dyke, an' I cudna but harken to see wha wud be oot at that time o' nicht. Fancy what I thocht when I heard Beek Steein's voice, that bides in Mistress Mollison's garret, sayin', "Eh, ay, Jeemie; it's an awfu' thing luve. I hinna steekit 'an e'e for twa nichts thinkin' aboot ye."
"Women's jist dreidfu'. Whan ance they gang the ill gait, they're neither to haud nor bin'. And to think o' them layin' han's upo' sic a bonnie weel-behaved laddie as that Alec Forbes, a ceevil, herty cratur, wi' a kin' word an' a joke even for the beggar 'at he geid a bawbee till!
"Eh, Alec," she cried, starting to her feet, at once shocked and delighted, "dinna say that. It's dreidfu' to hear ye say sic a thing. I wish I was a wee like her." "Weel, Annie, I think ye're jist like her. But come oot wi' me. I hae a story to tell ye. Gie me yer han', and pit yer fit upo' the seat."
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