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Aifter ye 've carried the bukes afore ae minister for five and thirty year, ye're no anxious for a change; naebody 'll ever come doon the kirkyaird like the Doctor, an' a' cudna brak ma step; na, na, there's no mony things a' michtna learn, but a' cudna brak ma step."
'My mither, than? suggested Shargar, with hesitation. 'Ye maun haud yer face to the fac'. 'Ay, ay. But gin they said onything, ye ken aboot her. 'Gin ony man-body says a word agen yer mither, ye maun jist knock him doon upo' the spot. 'But I michtna be able. 'Ye could try, ony gait. 'He micht knock me down, ye ken. 'Weel, gae doon than. 'Ay.
'It's a' the weicht o' my muckle feet! he cried, as he dragged one of the troublesome members out of a hole. 'Losh, I dinna ken hoo far it michtna hae gane doon gien I hadna gotten a haud o' 't in time and pu'd it oot! How much of humour, how much of silliness, and how much of truth were wrapt up together in some of the things he said, it was impossible to determine.
"But allooin', hoo sud that affec' my bargain wi' you Mr. Henderson? Siller i' the pooch canna tak obligation frae the back." "Drivin' things to the wa', nae doobt!" returned the farmer. "I micht certainly hae ta'en the law o' ye, failin' yer appearance. But amo' freen's, that cudna be; an' 'deed, Mr. Warlock, gien a body wad be captious, michtna he say it wad hae been mair freen'ly to beg aff?"
"There wes naething wrang wi' the text," affords an excellent way of escape, and it is open to suggest efficiency in another department than the pulpit. "Mister MacWheep michtna be a special preacher, but there 's nae doot he wes a graund veesitor."
The chapter Annie chose was the ninth of St John's Gospel, about Jesus curing the man blind from his birth. When she had finished, Annie said, "Michtna he cure you, Tibbie, gin ye spiered at him?" "Ay micht he, and ay will he," answered Tibbie. "I'm only jist bidin' his time. But I'm thinkin' he'll cure me better yet nor he cured that blin' man.
But anent that, michtna ye jist ca' to min', laird,'at a gi'en gift's yer ain, to du wi' what ye like; an' I wad na heed man, no to say a cratur 'at belangs richtly to nae warl' ava','at wad play the bairn, an' want back what he had gi'en. For him, he's a mere deid man 'at winna lie still. Mony a bairn canna sleep, 'cause he's behavet himsel' ill the day afore!
"But michtna the Maister himsel' forgie her?" suggested Nicie, a little puzzled. "Lassie," said her mother solemnly, "ye dinna surely think 'at the Lord's forgifness is to lat fowk aff ohn repentit? That wad be a strange fawvour to grant them! I'm sure it was sae whan I gied you yer whups, lass.
'Maybe I do, but maybe I wouldna be anxious to tell ye, Jock Grimond, for ye michtna be pleased. 'Pleased or no pleased, I said, 'let me hear his name. 'Well, he answered, 'if ye maun have it, it's no your maister that folk thought would get it. 'Then, said I, 'Patrick, I jalouse who it is; it's MacKay of Scourie. 'It is, said Patrick.
'What w'y 'ill I win up, wantin' them? he rejoined, with a tremor of anxiety in his voice. 'We'll see aboot that, time eneuch, answered Kirsty. 'But my mither may be efter me! I wud fain be up! There's no sayin what she michtna be up til! She canna bide me! 'Dreid ye naething, Francie. Ye're no a match for my leddy, but I s' be atween ye and her. She's no sae fearsome as she thinks!
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