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"Na, na; I only say them. I dinna ken the tunes o' them." "And do you say them to Mr Bruce?" "Mr Bruce, sir! Mr Bruce wad say I was daft. I wadna say a sang to him, sir, for for for a' the sweeties i' the shop." "Well, who do you say them to?" "To Alec Forbes and Willie Macwha. They're biggin a boat, sir; and they like to hae me by them, as they big, to say sangs to them.
"Have you seen Annie Anderson to-day, Mr Bruce?" asked his mother. "'Deed no, mem. She doesna aften trouble huz wi' her company. We're no gran' eneuch for her." "Hasn't she been here to-day?" repeated Mrs Forbes, with discomposure in her look and tone. "Hae ye tint her, mem?" rejoined Bruce. "That is a peety. She'll be awa' wi' that vaigabone, Willie Macwha. He was i' the toon last nicht.
Having arrived at the point in the process where the assistance of a carpenter was necessary, he went to George Macwha, whom he found at his bench, planing. This bench was in a work-shop, with two or three more benches in it, some deals set up against the wall, a couple of red cart-wheels sent in for repair, and the tools and materials of his trade all about.
The flag-staff he had got George Macwha to erect for him, at a very small outlay; and he had himself fitted it with shrouds and a cross-yard, and signal halliards; for he had always a fancy for the sea, and boats, and rigging of all sorts. And he had a great red flag, too, which he used to hoist on special occasions-�on market-days and such like; and often besides when a good wind blew.
Do ye believe that, Thamas Crann?" "Na, na, George, man. Ye ken little what ye're busiest sayin'. It'll be a glorifeed body that he'll rise wi'. It's sown in dishonour, and raised in glory. Hoot! hoot! ye are ignorant, man!" Macwha got more nettled still at his tone of superiority. "Wad it be a glorifeed timmer-leg he rase wi', gin he had been buried wi' a timmer-leg?" asked he.
Now who should come into the shop at the moment but Thomas Crann! the very man of all men not to be desired on the occasion; for the boys had contemplated a certain ceremony of christening, which they dared not carry out in the presence of the stone-mason; without which, however, George Macwha was very doubtful whether the little craft would prove a lucky one.
Ay!" "The damned ill-faured brute, to bite Annie Anderson!" "But there's nae stanes to be gotten i' the snaw, General," said Cadger. "Ye gomeril! Ye'll get mair stanes nor ye'll carry, I doobt, up o' the side o' the toll-road yonner. Naething like road-metal!" A confused chorus of suggestions and exclamations now arose, in the midst of which Willie Macwha, whose cognomen was Curly-pow, came up.
"Well with learning songs to say to Alec Forbes and Willie Macwha do you think he would be angry that you didn't think about him that day, especially when you can't see him?" "'Deed no, sir. He wadna be sae sair upo' me as that." "What would he say, do you think?" "Gin Mr Bruce war to cast it up till me, he wad say: 'Lat alane the lassie. She'll think aboot me the morn time eneuch."
Thomas resumed: "He jist wants what ye want, Gleorge Macwha." "What's that, Thamas?" asked George, with a grim attempt at a smile, as if to say: "I know what's coming, but I'm not going to mind it." "He jist wants to be weel shaken ower the mou' o' the pit. He maun smell the brunstane o' the everlastin' burnin's.
Away they flew like the wind, along the well-beaten path to the town, over the footbridge that crossed the Glamour, and full speed up the hill to Willie Macwha, who, with a dozen or fifteen more, was anxiously waiting for the commander. They all had their book-bags, pockets, and arms filled with stones lately broken for mending the turnpike road, mostly granite, but partly whinstone and flint.
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