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Updated: June 17, 2025
"Alec!" shouted Thomas, in a voice that might have been heard across the roar of the Glamour, "Will ye lat the women droon?" "Thomas," answered Alec, meekly, trembling from head to foot, "gin I gang to the boddom, I gang to hell." "Better be damned, doin' the will o' God, than saved doin' noathing!" said Thomas. The blood shot into Alec's face. He turned and ran.
"Better as we noathing do, maybe; eh?" suggested the Polish lad. "I guess you've struck it," assented Jimmy. "There isn't very much we can do. We might take a chance and sneak out, but I think very likely, the Germans are well supplied with glasses. They are, most certainly, watching this mill, if for no other reason than that it's so conspicuous.
She gasped and started. "They're just a wheen clouts I was sorting out," she faltered. "No, no, dear, there's noathing wrong wi' me." "There's one sticking in your blouse," said he, and pointed to her slack breast. She glanced nervously down and pushed it farther in. "I dare say I put it there when I wasna thinking," she explained. But she eyed him furtively to see if he were still looking.
"But 'Anderson's Sting o' Delight' 's very good, and so's 'Balsillie's Brig o' the Mains." "Ay," said the Deacon. "Ay, ay! 'Brig o' the Mains' ith what Jock Allan drinks. He'll pree noathing else. I dare thay you thee a great deal of him in Embro." "Oh, every week," swaggered Gourlay. "We're always together, he and I." "Alwayth thegither!" said the Deacon.
There was no give and take in the man; he could be verra jocose with the lairds, to be sure, but he never dropped in to the Red Lion for a crack and a dram with the town-folk; he just glowered as if he could devour them! And who was he, I should like to know? His grandfather had been noathing but a common carrier! Hate was the greater on both sides because it was often impotent.
Where'll he be off till at this hour of the day? He's not often up so soon." "They say he sits late studying," said Johnny Coe. "H'mph, studying!" grunted Tam Brodie, a big, heavy, wall-cheeked man, whose little, side-glancing eyes seemed always alert for scandal amid the massive insolence of his smooth face. "I see few signs of studying in him. He's noathing but a stink wi' a skin on't."
"It'th a fine morning, Mr. Gourlay," he simpered. "There's noathing wrong with the morning," grunted Gourlay, as if there was something wrong with the Deacon. "We wath wanting to thee ye on a very important matter, Mithter Gourlay," lisped the Deacon, smiling up at the big man's face, with his head on one side, and rubbing his fingers in front of him.
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