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"Ye'll jist tell the bonnie laad to haud wast a bit an' rin her ashore, an' we'll a' be there an' hae her as dry's Noah's ark in a jiffie. Tell her leddyship we'll cairry the boat, an' her intil't, to the tap o' the Boar's Tail, gien she'll gie's her orders. Winna we, laads?" "We can but try!" said one.
He has nowther balm o' grace nor pith o' damnation. "Yon laad Flemin', 'at preached i' the Baillies' Barn aboot the dowgs gaein' roon' an' roon' the wa's o' the New Jeroozlem, gien he had but hauden thegither an' no gean to the worms sae sune, wad hae dung a score o' 'im.
"Weel, there's ae thing clear: ye'll never ken what to do sae lang's ye hing on aboot a stable, fu' o' fower fittet animals wantin' sense an' some twa fittet 'at has less." "I doobt ye're richt there, mem; and gien I cud but tak puir Kelpie awa' wi' me " "Hoots! I'm affrontit wi ye. Kelpie quo he! Preserve's a'! The laad 'ill lat his ain sister gang, an' bide at hame wi' a mere!"
I'll no believe mysel' 'at the laad I kissed like my ain mither's son afore he gaed awa' wad turn like that upo' 's 'maist the meenute he was oot o' sicht, an' a' for a feow words aboot a fulish play actin'. Lord bliss us a'! markises is men.
For ae thing, ye see, naebody kens whaur he cam frae, as the laird, bonny laad, wad say, an' naebody can contradick a word the auld man less than onybody, for I can tell him what he kens to be trowth. Only I winna muv till I ken whaur he comes frae." "Wouldn't you prefer not knowing for certain? You could swear with the better grace." "Deil a bit!
"Didst tha save them ten sooverins to get news o' Macnamara, laad?" "Think I bloomin' well looted 'em go to 'ell!" said Henry Withers of the Sick Horse Depot, and left the lower deck of the Osiris in a fit of sudden anger. Up in Omdurman Peter Macnamara knew naught of this.
"I dinna believe ae word o' 't, laddie," answered Miss Horn eagerly. "Wha cud believe sic a fine laad come o' sic a fause mither?" "She micht be ony body's mither, an' fause tu," said Malcolm gloomily. "That's true laddie; and the mair mither the fauser! There's a warl' o' witness i' your face 'at gien she be yer mither, the markis, an no puir honest hen peckit John Stewart, was the father o' ye.
It's no the place for ane 'at has to hide 's heid for verra shame o' slippin' aff the likes o' himsel' upo' sic a braw mither! Could he get nae ither door to win in at, haith!" "Woman, you 'll drive me mad!" said the other. "Weel, hinney," returned the former, suddenly changing her tone, "I'm mair an' mair convenced 'at yon's the verra laad for yer purpose.
"Ay, lass! but gien ye hed this ashmy, makin' a' yer breist as gien 'twar lined wi' the san' paper 'at they hed been lichtin' a thoosan' or twa lucifer spunks upo' ye micht be driven to forget 'at the Lord was yer life for I can tell ye it's no like haein his breith i' yer nostrils." "Eh, my bonny laad!" returned Janet with infinite tenderness, "I micht weel forget it!
"Something like that. We 'll see how it goes. If he does n't like it, he can drop it. It 's more that I want to have him about me than anything else. I want to do something for him when I have a chance. I like him." "My lort will pe toing ta laad a creat honour," said Duncan. "Put," he added, with a sigh, "she 'll pe lonely, her nainsel!"