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Updated: May 11, 2025
"Nay," replied the weaver, "it'll be thy bed so lang as thou bides wi' me. I'll mak up a bed for misen i' t' kitchen on t' lang-settle." A grateful expression came over the girl's face, but she made no move in the direction of the inner room. Silence prevailed for some time until the weaver asked: "Is there owt I can do for thee, or owt that thou's gotten to tell me, lass?
"Nay, I don't. You're young, Richard, lad, and you'll know more some day; but I'll tell you beforehand, if you iver hev a favor to ask, ask it of any body but a relation you may go to fifty, and not find one at hes owt o' sort about 'em."
The folk upon the Sonounday Held to Saynct Bridis kyrk thair way, And tha that in the castell war Ischyt owt, bath les and mar, And went thair palmys for to her; Owtane a cuk and a porter. James off Dowglas off thair cummyng, And quhat thai war, had witting; And sped him till the kyrk in hy Bot or he come, too hastily Ane off his criyt, "Dowglas! Dowglas!"
'Oh, yes, replied Berry. 'Hello, Jack, he said to the girl. 'Got owt to grizzle about? 'What for? she asked, in a clear, half-challenging voice, that had that peculiar twang, almost petulant, so female and so attractive. Yet she was defiant like a boy. 'It's a wonder if you haven't, growled Sutton.
"Are you going to resist the law?" "Nay, not I," said Hickathrift. "I am a good subject o' the king's. God bless him! But if yow says owt more again Mester Dick, I'll take thee by the scruff and pitch thee right out yonder into the bog." "Ay," snarled Dave, spitting in his hands and giving his staff a twist; "and I'll howd him down till he says he's sorry."
"I say he's a man," said the rustic furiously, stopping and striking his stick on the ground. "Not a city or owt else. He's a man." "You're perfectly right," said the sudden voice of MacIan, falling like a sword. "And you have kept close to something the whole world of today tries to forget." "Good night." And the old man went on wildly singing into the night.
His fame was due to the perfection of a single book; he ranked as a potentate in STYLE. But literary perfection, whether in prose or poetry, is a fragile quality, an afflatus irregular, independent, unamenable to orders; the official tributes of a Laureate we compliment at their best with the northern farmer's verdict on the pulpit performances of his parson: "An' I niver knaw'd wot a mean'd but I thow't a 'ad summut to saay, And I thowt a said wot a owt to 'a said an' I comed awaay."
Tha has landed, then?" said the father. "Yes," replied the son. "But I'm going back to-night." "Are ter, beguy!" exclaimed the collier. "An' has ter eaten owt?" "No." "That's just like thee," said Morel. "Come thy ways in." The father was afraid of the mention of his wife. The two went indoors.
Dick did not finish his speech, for at that moment Hickathrift stretched out one of his great arms, and his big hand closed with a mighty grip on the constable's shoulder, making the man utter a sharp ejaculation. "That'll do," he growled. "Yow shoot thee neb. Man as says owt again Mester Dick here's saying things agen me." "What do you mean?" cried the constable.
She turned round then and faced him, harder to be met in her rigid mood than if she had been a tempest. "Tha knows what I ha' getten to say," she answered, her tone strained and husky with repressed fierceness. "Aye! tha knows it well enough. I ha' not much need to tell thee owt. He comn here this morning an' he towd me aw I want to know about thee, Seth Lonas an' more too."
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