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She wore gold around her neck and on her hair thick twists, as those worn by the heroes of old. All these would she have resigned to the priest all these; and if he wished for the ornaments of a gentle lady, or the sporran of a high chief, though they had been great as Macallum Mhor himself, MacTavish Mhor would have procured them, if Elspat had promised them.
"What's your name?" "My name's Gervase Taunton, but I'm called 'the Mhor. This is Peter Jardine," patting the dog's nose. "I'm very glad to know you," said Pamela. "Isn't that wall damp?" "It is rather," said Mhor. "We came to look at you." "Oh," said Pamela. "I've never seen an Honourable before, neither has Peter." "You'd better come in and see me quite close," Pamela suggested.
I forget who he is it's quite a well-known family but he has been uncommonly kind to Davie. He wants him to go home with him next week, but of course Davie is keen to get back to Priorsford. Besides, you can't visit the stately homes of England on thirty shillings, and that's about Davie's limit, dear lamb! Jock and Mhor are looking forward with joy to hear him speak.
And he iss civilly tesiring it to pe known tat if there will pe any canting, poo-hooing, psalm-singing whig repellioner in ta toun, and he will pe so pould as to pe coming forth his hiding holes, and looking ta said Rory Dhu Mhor in ta face, ta said Rory Dhu Mhor herepy kifs promise to pe so ferry condescending as to pe cutting ta same filthy Whig loon shorter by ta legs, for ta honour of King Tchames.
For some reason best known to himself Mhor was very sparing of breath when he repeated poetry, making one breath last so long that the end of the verse was reached in a breathless whisper in this instance very effective. "So that is what 'Jean' teaches you," said Pamela. "I should like to see Jean." "Well," said Mhor, "come in with me now and see her.
"Oh rich in a gentle way, a few hundreds a year but this " "Poor Jean, buried under bullion." "You're all looking at me differently already," cried poor Jean. "Mhor, it's just the same me. Money can't make any real difference. Don't stare at me like that." "Will Peter have a diamond collar now?" Mhor asked. "Awful effect of sudden riches," said Pamela.
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.
"If you want a word out of them you must lock up all printed matter before they approach. Thank goodness, that's the gong! They can't read while they're feeding." "Honourable," said Mhor, as they ate their excellent luncheon. "Isn't Laverlaw a lovely place?" Pamela agreed. "I never saw anything so indescribably green. It wears the fairy livery.
The other children like it broken down to them, but Mhor pleads for 'the real words. He likes the swing and majesty of them.... I was reading them Kipling's story, Servants of the Queen, the other day.
The Highlanders filled the little kitchen, brandishing their arms, demanding what they pleased, and receiving whatever they demanded. James Mhor, he said, was a tall, stern, and soldier-like man. Robin Oig looked more gentle; dark, but yet ruddy in complexion a good-looking young savage.
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