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Updated: May 7, 2025
"Was the bairn laid mither nakit intill yer han's, Maister MacPhail?" asked Miss Horn, who had been meditating. "Och! no; he wass his clo'es on," answered Duncan. "Hae ye ony o' them left?" she asked again. "Inteet not," answered Duncan. "Yes, inteet not." "Ye lay at the Salmon, didna ye?" "Yes, mem, and they wass coot to her." "Wha drest the bairn till ye?"
"Well inteet," said the Ancient Mariner, as he settled once more to his pipe, "it will be a great peety that Lawyer Ed has neither the Gawlic nor the profanity, for when he will be getting into a rage he will jist be no use at all, at all!" All unconscious of his verbal deficiencies, and uproariously happy, Lawyer Ed sped away down the Pine Road towards town.
"What now, Betty Williams? is the wench mad or drunk?" cried Miss Hodges. "We are to have a mad scene next, I suppose," said Miss Warwick, calmly "I am prepared for every thing, after what I have seen." Betty Williams continued crying bitterly, and wringing her hands "Oh, shave me this once, miss! 'tis the first thing of the kind I ever tid, inteet, inteet!
Oh, shave me this once I tid not know it was worth so much as a shilling, and that I could be hanged, inteet and I " Here Betty was interrupted by the entrance of Mrs. Puffit, the milliner, the printer's devil, and a stern-looking man, to whom Mrs. Puffit, as she came in, said, pointing to Betty Williams and Miss Warwick, "There they are do your duty, Mr. Constable: I'll swear to my lace."
"Good-night, Deb," said one, a mulatto, steadying herself against the gas-post. She needed the post to steady her. So did more than one of them. "Dah's a ball to Miss Potts' to-night. Ye'd best come." "Inteet, Deb, if hur'll come, hur'll hef fun," said a shrill Welsh voice in the crowd.
"We are told in the New Testament to forgive our enemies, you know," said Mrs Courthope, heedless of his entrance, but in a voice that seemed rather to plead than oppose. "Inteet she will not be false to her shief and her clan," retorted Duncan persistently. "She will not forgife Cawmil of Glenlyon." "But he's dead long since, and we may at least hope he repented and was forgiven."
"Good-night, Deb," said one, a mulatto, steadying herself against the gas-post. She needed the post to steady her. So did more than one of them. "Dah's a ball to Miss Potts' to-night. Ye'd best come." "Inteet, Deb, if hur 'll come, hur 'll hef fun," said a shrill Welsh voice in the crowd.
He was a little man, with a shrewd eye and a slow tongue but a tongue that could give a deadly thrust when he got ready to use it. "The Aye-men," he said with great deliberation, and when he was most deliberate, he was most to be feared. "Inteet, and you'll be putting that tail to the end o' the psawlms too." He tapped Lawyer Ed on the arm with his spectacle case.
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