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Updated: June 22, 2025
"I thank ye frae mine," answered Malcolm, and again they shook hands. "But eh, Ma'colm, my man!" said the factor, "hoo will I ever shaw my face again?" "Fine that!" returned Malcolm, eagerly. "Fowk's terrible guid natur'd whan ye alloo 'at ye're i' the wrang. I do believe 'at whan a man confesses till 's neebour, an' says he's sorry, he thinks mair o' 'im nor afore he did it.
"I thank ye frae mine," answered Malcolm, and again they shook hands. "But eh, Ma'colm, my man!" he added, "hoo will I ever shaw my face again?" "Fine that!" returned Malcolm, eagerly. "Fowk's terrible guid-natur'd whan ye alloo 'at ye're 'i the wrang. I do believe 'at whan a man confesses till 's neebor an' says he's sorry, he thinks mair o' 'im nor afore he did it.
And what's mair, it's no' an argyment ava', for I hae mony a dinner o' the sermons that I gathered in thae far back days. I aye eat and sup off that when ye an' yir fowk's fummlin' wi' yir cairds at the kirk. Bide a meenit." He hurried into an adjoining room, and soon returned with a sheaf of rusty notes, clearing his throat awhile with the sound of a trumpeter calling to the fray.
He lost no time in telling him the story. 'I tauld ye he was up to some deevilry or ither, said Shargar. 'I can shaw ye the verra hoose he maun be gaein' to tak her frae. 'Ye vratch! what for didna ye tell me that afore? 'Ye wadna hear aboot ither fowk's affairs. Na, not you! But some fowk has no richt to consideration. The verra stanes they say 'ill cry oot ill secrets like brither Sandy's.
He was a kin' o' saft-like whiles, and unco easy come ower, but, haein little fear mysel, I ken a cooard whan I see him. Something may hae set up his pride he has eneuch o' that for twa deevils but Francie was never nae cooard! 'Dinna lay the lee at my door, I beg o' ye, Miss Barclay. I was but tellin ye what fowk was saying. 'Fowk's aye sayin, and seldom sayin true.
"It's been an awfu' happy time," said Jess. "We've ha'en a pleasantness in oor lives 'at comes to few. I ken naebody 'at's ha'en sae muckle happiness one wy or another." "It's because ye're sae guid, mother," said Jamie. "Na, Jamie, am no guid ava. It's because my fowk's been sae guid, you an' Hendry an' Leeby an' Joey when he was livin'. I've got a lot mair than my deserts."
The warst o' 't is 'at honest fowk's aye ready to believe leears! They dinna lee themsel's, and sae it's no easy to them to think anither wad. Thereby the fause word has free coorse and is glorifeed! They're no a' leears 'at spreads the lee; but for them 'at maks the lee, the Lord silence them! 'Hoots, Kirsty, said her mother, 'it disna become ye to curse naebody! It's no richt o' ye.
I winna say a word o' what Jock Mitchell tellt me aboot Lord Sandy. 'Ow, say awa'. 'Na, na; ye wadna like to hear aboot ither fowk's affairs. But that's neither here nor there. I maun set aboot my version, or I winna get it dune the nicht. 'What is Lord Sandy after? What did the rascal tell you? Why do you make such a mystery of it? said Robert, authoritatively, and in his best English.
'He's dune a' 'at he can for him, I doobt, already. 'Duv ye think 'at God cudna save a man gin he liket, than, grannie? 'God can do a'thing. There's nae doobt but by the gift o' his speerit he cud save a'body. 'An' ye think he's no mercifu' eneuch to do 't? 'It winna do to meddle wi' fowk's free wull. To gar fowk he gude wad be nae gudeness.
As vengeance would have it, Meg Partan was the first of whom, with supercilious airs and "clippit" tongue, he requested to know where a certain blind man, who played on an instrument called the bagpipes, lived. With reddening cheek he informed her that he came on his lord's business. "I dinna doobt it," she retorted; "ye luik siclike as rins ither fowk's eeran's."
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