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Updated: June 28, 2025
His mouth was fallen slack, and showed a few yellow tusks. "Eh?" he asked vaguely. The thought that he must leave the Gourlays could not penetrate his mind. "I don't need you ainy more," said Gourlay again, and met his eye steadily. "I'm gey auld," said Peter, still shaking his hands with that pitiful gesture, "but I only need a bite and a sup. Man, I'm willin' to tak onything."
Sandy took till his heels up the stair; an' a gey like picture he was, wi' his lang, white sark-tails fleein' i' the air, a lum hat on his heid, an umberell in his oxter, the bag in ae hand, an' the denner bell i' the ither, bangin' an' clangin' at ilky jump.
I'll never think it's the officers here at this time o' night. I am nae believer in auld wives' stories about ghaists, though this is gey like a place for them But mortal, or of the other world, here they come! twa men and a light."
"But, wuman," he went on, "I fancy I hae set e'en upo' your e'en afore I canna weel say for yer face. Whaur come ye frae?" "Ken ye a place they ca' Daurside?" she rejoined. "Daurside's a gey lang place," answered Donal; "an' this maun be aboot the tae en' o' 't, I'm thinkin'." "Ye're no far wrang there," she returned; "an' ye hae a gey gleg tongue i' yer heid for a laad frae Daurside."
"Oor minister's fine at the castin' doon o' the strongholds o' Satan," said the one; "it minds me o' what the beasts got i' the temple." "It's mebbe no' Solomon's exact words, but it's gey like them: 'A time to pit on the goon an' a time to tak' aff the coat' an' it's the yae kin' o' proheebeetion that's ony guid forbye," said the other.
"There's naebody thinking of you, Hermiston!" cried the offended woman. "We think of her that's out of her sorrows. And could SHE have done waur? Tell me that, Hermiston tell me that before her clay-cauld corp!" "Weel, there's some of them gey an' ill to please," observed his lordship. MY Lord Justice-Clerk was known to many; the man Adam Weir perhaps to none.
The train gae a shoag juist at that meenit, an' he gaed doit ower on the tap o' Sandy, and brocht a tin box doish doon on his heid. He got a gey tnap, I can tell you.
It was twa strucken 'oors afore he got to the shop door wi' the cairt, an' baith him an' the horse were sweitin' afore they startit on his roonds. Sandy was lookin' gey raised like, so I lut him get on a' his tatties an' said naething. Stumpie Mertin cam' by, an', lookin' at Princie, gae his heid a claw. "What are ye stanin' glowerin' at?" says Sandy till him, gey snappit like.
'Don it, Ringan, as thou wouldst obey me. 'His father's son is not his own father, said Ringan sulkily. 'Then tak' thy choice of wearing it, or winning hame as thou canst most like hanging on the nearest oak. 'And I'd gey liefer than demean myself in the Drummond thyme! replied Ringan, half turning away.
"Ow, weel-a-weel," says Sandy, gey dour-like he's as bucksturdie as a mule when he tak's't in's heid "but we're no' deid yet, an' we'll mibby manish to garr some fowk winder yet, when a's dune. What's been dune afore can be dune again; the speerit o' Bannockburn's no' de'ed oot a'thegither." But I left the cratur chatterin' awa' till himsel', an' ran but to sair some fowk i' the shop.
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