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Updated: June 7, 2025
M'Cosh, "for I got it frae ma sister Annie, her that's in Australia. Here see, there's a post-caird for ye. It's a rale nice yin. Sauchiehall Street, Glasgow. There's Annackers' shope as plain's plain." Mhor looked discontentedly at the offering. "I wish," he said slowly "I wish I had a post-card of a hippopotamus being sick." "Ugh, you want unnaitural post-cairds.
And David by the way, where is David?" "Out," said Jock, "getting something at the stationer's. Let me tell him when he comes in." "Then I'll tell Mrs. M'Cosh," cried Mhor, and, followed by Peter, he rushed from the room. The colour was beginning to come back to Jean's face, and the stunned look to go out of her eyes. "Why in the world has he left it to me?" she asked Pamela.
One of the guests, a little music-teacher, said: "The worst of Christmas is that it brings back to one's mind all the other Christmasses and the people who were with us then...." Bella Bathgate's voice was heard talking to Mrs. M'Cosh at the door: "I dinna believe in keeping Christmas; it's a popish festival. New Year's the time. Ye can eat yer currant-bun wi' a relish then.
"I canna mind the exact name, but she's ca'ed the Honourable an' she's bringin' a leddy's maid." "Gosh, Maggie!" ejaculated Jock. "I asked you not to say that, Jock," Jean reminded him. "Ay," Mrs. M'Cosh continued, "Bella Bathgate's kinna pit oot aboot it. She disna ken how she's to cook for an Honourable she niver saw yin." "Have you seen one?" Jock asked.
M'Cosh came farther into the room and folded her hands on her snow-white apron. "Weel, Mhor came in and tell't me some kinna story aboot a lot o' money, but I thocht he was juist bletherin'. Is't a fac'?" "It would seem to be. The lawyer in London writes that Mr.
With one arm he clutched the cat and assured that unwilling voyager, "You're on the dangerous sea, me old puss. You don't want to be drowned, do you?" The cat struggled and scratched. "Then go to your doom!" "Haven't you finished eating yet, Jock?" Jean asked. "Here is Mrs. M'Cosh for the tea-things."
M'Cosh came in to lay the tea, and Jean said: "You'll have tea here, Cousin Lewis, though this isn't my visit, and then you can go over to Hillview with Pamela and pay your visit to her. You mustn't miss the opportunity of killing two birds with one stone. Besides, Pamela's time in Priorsford is so short now, you mayn't have another chance of paying a visit of ceremony." "Well, if I may "
All these people I've been telling you about are rich people, 'in a large way, as Priorsford calls it. They have all large motor-cars and hothouses and rich things like that. Mrs. M'Cosh says Priorsford is a 'real tone-y wee place, and we do fancy ourselves a good deal. It's a community largely made up of women and middle-aged retired men.
"Villas," said Jean "hateful new villas! What are conveniences compared to old thick walls and queer windows and little funny stairs? Besides, The Rigs has a soul." "Oh, mercy!" said Mrs. M'Cosh, picking up the tray and moving at last to the door, "that's fair heathenish!"
Investigation showed that for a long time there had been carelessness and mismanagement of funds, and that fraud had completed the disaster. M'Cosh was wanted by the police. To John Hewett the blow was a terrible one. In spite of his poverty, he had never fallen behind with those weekly payments.
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