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Updated: May 24, 2025
"That's Robbie Tosh," continued Leeby; "an' there's nae doot 'at he's makkin for the minister's, for he has on his black coat. He'll be to row the minister's luggage to the post-cart. Ay, an' that's Davit Lunnan's barrow. I ken it by the shaft's bein' spliced wi' yarn. Davit broke the shaft at the saw-mill." Ay, he'll be awa to Edinbory, to see the lass."
"Man, I've thocht o' makkin' up to Bell mysel," said Pete Ogle. "Wid there be ony chance, think ye, Sam'l?" "I'm thinkin' she widna hae ye for her first, Pete," replied Sam'l, in one of those happy flashes that come to some men, "but there's nae sayin' but what she micht tak ye to finish up wi'." The unexpectedness of this sally startled every one.
Jellison, she came in along o' the Pattons. You can't say her no, she's a queer one. Do you know her, miss?" "Oh, bless yer, yes, yes. She knows me!" said a high, jocular voice, making Mrs. Hurd start; "she couldn't be long hereabouts without makkin' eëaste to know me. You coom in, miss. We're not afraid o' you Lor' bless you!" Mrs.
There was between this mother and daughter a continual undercurrent of possible antagonism, overlain and usually smothered out of sight by passionate attachment on both sides. Little Bel tossed her head. "Age is not everything that goes to the makkin o' a teacher," she retorted.
"'Ay, that's them, he said, 'they were richt neat mended. It was my mother 'at glued them. I mind o' her makkin' the glue, an' warnin' me an' my father no to sit on them. There was the clock too, an' the stool 'at my mother got oot an' into her bed wi', an' the basket 'at Leeby carried when she gaed the errands. The straw was aff the handle, an' my father mended it wi' strings.
"It is a pity he stopped at Clough's mill, if there was ill-feeling between them." "T' lad's none to blame for that. Clough is makkin' some new kind o' figured goods, and t' men are all hired by t' twelvemonth, and bound over to keep a quiet tongue i' their mouths about t' new looms as does t' work.
Thou'lt be makkin' a Methodist o' me, whether I will or no. I hed no idea afore there was a' that in t' picture. I wont stay here any longer. Thanks be! It's sleeping-time, missee." "I should like to sleep in this room, squire." "Why, then, rector, thou shall. A bit o' fire and some aired bed-clothes is a' it wants. Thou's sure to sleep well in it, and thou'lt hev t' sunrise to wake thee up."
"Ah! you two are scarred about your 'coy and your rabbud-warren," cried Hickathrift good-humouredly. "I wish they'd dree-ern the whole place and have roads all over it, so as to want carts and wains." "Nay, they nivver will," said Dave sourly. "Tek to makkin' boats and punts, mun. Them's best." "Hullo, Dave!" cried Dick; "how about the ruffs and reeves? You said you'd take me to the netting."
The sheepskin hearthrug, which was generally carefully packed away beneath the bed, had been spread out before the empty fireplace, and Jess was on the arm-chair hurriedly putting on her grand black mutch with the pink flowers. "I was juist makkin' mysel respectable," she said, but without life in her voice. This was the only time I ever saw her in the room.
"Yo' know th' secret as she carried," she said, "or I wouldna tell yo' even now; an' now I tell it yo' that she may carry the secret to her grave, an' ha' no gossiping tongue to threep at her. I dunnot want foak starin' an' wonderin' an' makkin' talk. She's borne enow." "It shall be as you wish, whether you tell me the story or not," said Langley. "We will keep it as sacred as you have done."
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