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Updated: May 23, 2025
Prudence looked up with an expression of contrition. "No no, not you, child. You stay here and get on with your fandangles and dressmaking. I'll go and help her." Without waiting for a reply she darted off. She had no intention of having her innocent little scheme upset. The moment after her departure the clatter of horse's hoofs came in through the open window.
"Her comes yer white nigger," she said, in a loud whisper, "and I's boun' to gaffer de las' news;" and putting on a demure face, she accosted the neatly-appareled child. "Specs ye're a stranger in dese yer parts. What's yer name?" "Tidy; what's yourn?" was the ready response. "Dey calls me France. Dey don't stop to place fandangles on to names here. Specs dey'll call YOU Ti."
But afore I wan to the brig, whan I was i' the shaidow o' Baillie Bapp's hoose, I heard sic a scushlin' and a shochlin' upo' the brig! and I saw something gang reelin' aboot; and afore I cud gaither my wits and rin foret, I heard an awfu' splash i' the water; and by gangs somebody wi' lang quaiet strides, and never saw me. He had on the kilts and the lave o' the fandangles.
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