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Updated: May 26, 2025
Gien ye be the waur the morn, it'll be a' my wyte, 'cause I cudna bide to hear sic things said o' Ma'colm."
"It was the drink," rejoined Malcolm; "an' eh, sir, afore ye rise frae that bed sweir to the great God 'at ye'll never drink nae mair drams, nor onything 'ayont ae tum'ler at a sittin'." "I sweir 't, I sweir 't, Ma'colm!" cried the factor. "It's easy to sweir 't noo, sir, but whan ye're up again it'll be hard to keep yer aith.
During the latter part of the conversation they had been standing at the door, while Miss Horn ferreted the needful pence from a pocket under her gown. She now entered, but as Malcolm waited for Jean to take the fish, she turned on the threshold, and said: "Wad ye no like to see her, Ma'colm? A guid frien' she was to you, sae lang's she was here," she added after a short pause.
"What hae ye in yer bit basket the day, Ma'colm?" she said, with a peculiar smile, which was not sweet enough to restore vanished confidence. "Naething guid for dogs," answered Malcolm, and was walking past. But she made a step forward, and, with a laugh meant to indicate friendly amusement, said, The doggie's awa on 's traivels the day."
Wondering and anxious, but not very hopeful as to what might come of it, he waited close by; and when now he saw Lizzy dart from the house in wild perturbation, he ran from the cover of the surrounding trees into the open drive to meet her. "Ma'colm!" groaned the poor girl, holding out her baby, "he winna own till't. He winna alloo 'at he kens oucht aboot me or the bairn aither!"
"I maun lea' the cuintry, Ma'colm." "'Deed, sir, ye'll du naething o' the kin'. The fishers themsel's wad rise no to lat ye, as they did wi' Blew Peter! As sune's ye're able to be aboot again, ye'll see plain eneuch 'at there's no occasion for onything like that, sir. Portlossie wadna ken 'tsel' wantin' ye.
She was leaving the room as she spoke to return instantly with brandy. The laird swallowed some with an effort, and began to revive. "Eh, sirs!" exclaimed Miss Horn, regarding him now more narrowly "but he's in an awfu' state o' dirt! I maun wash his face an' han's, an' pit him till 's bed. Could ye help aff wi' 's claes, Ma'colm?
Blue Peter at once obeyed the summons. "There's naething wrang, I houp, Ma'colm?" he said, as he closed the door behind him. "Maister Graham wad say," returned Malcolm, "naething ever was wrang but what ye did wrang yersel', or wadna pit richt whan ye had a chance. I ha'e him nae mair to gang till, Joseph, an' sae I'm come to you.
"But Mistress Courthope was doon last nicht, an' wantit the best I cud heuk." "Mistress Courthope! Wha cares for her? A mim, cantin' auld body! Gie me the trootie, Ma'colm. Ye're a bonny laad, an 'it s' be the better for ye." "Deed I cudna du 't, Mistress Catanach though I'm sorry to disobleege ye. It's bespoken, ye see. "Gae 'wa' wi' yer haddies, an' yer goukmeys! Ye sanna gowk me wi' them."
With the act the question seemed shot from her "Duv ye ca' yersel' an honest man, noo, Ma'colm?" "I ca' myself naething," answered the youth; "but I wad fain be what ye say, Miss Horn." "Ow! I dinna doobt ye wadna steal, nor yet tell lees aboot a horse: I ha'e jist come frae a sair waggin' o' tongues about ye.
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