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Updated: May 15, 2025


"It'th all right. Ath I'm rethponthible for it, I only wanted to know." "Did YOU send it?" asked Low, quickly fixing his eyes on his face. "Well, not exactly ME. But it'th not worth making a mythtery of it. Teretha gave me a commithion to buy it and thend it to you anonymouthly. That'th a woman'th nonthenth, for how could thee get a retheipt for it?" "Then it was HER present," said Low gloomily.

Wherever we thplathed it about, Thir, a bit, it'th thet everything growing ranker, Thir, than I ever thought anything could grow. Itth impothible to thtop a month, Thir. Itth more than our liveth are worth, Thir. Even if the waptheth don't thting uth, we thall be thuffocated by the creeper, Thir. You can't imagine, Thir unleth you come down to thee, Thir "

"The mare has a cold and the syce is a qualified fool, is he? H'm! I think it's high time you had a look in at little old England, my son, what? And who made you this elegant rapier? Ochterlonie Sahib or who?" "'Tithn't a waper. It'th my thword. I made it mythelf." "Who helped?" "Nobody.

"No doubt it'th a grai-ait pity!" and he wagged his head from side to side, the picture of a poignant woe. "I saw him in the Black Bull yestreen," said Brodie, who had been silent hitherto in utter scorn of the lad they were speaking of too disgusted to open his mouth. "He was standing drinks to a crowd that were puffing him up about that prize o' his."

Never a man went forth, bowed down with a recent shame, wounded and wincing from the public gaze, but that old rogue hirpled up to him, and lisped with false smoothness: "Thirce me, neebour, I'm thorry for ye! Thith ith a terrible affair! It'th on everybody'th tongue. But ye have my thympathy, neebour, ye have tha-at my warmetht thympathy."

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