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Updated: June 21, 2025
"Thank you, Dinah, you have done your best, no doubt; don't sell my ring, though; I shall want it back some day." "La, chile, I done 'sposed ob it aready, an' dey give me a poun of backer an' a gole-piece fur it. It was good gole an' no mistake. I tells you all," adding aloud, "an' now, Miss Mirim, I has tole you ebbery syllable. I disremembered ob dat speritual ar.
Out 'e jumps and down he goes along a side street as if the devil was arter him. Then I drives on my way and pulls up 'ere. Bilked you were, guvner, and I don't mind sayin' so, but busness is busness, and five poun' ten ain't to be picked up every day. I guess the old woman will be all there when I get 'ome to-night."
"We'll need it fer drink." "What're you going to do?" she asked, hastening to obey. Her voice was lowered apprehensively. He was wrapping some clothes over his shoes. "Butcher Simon," he said curtly. Her face became a white spot in the gloom. "Critter'll be tough, like's not," went on her father. "But y' c'n poun' th' meat." After a long wait, she spoke.
Mars Dugal' seed 'em tergedder one Sunday, en de nex' time he seed Dave atter dat, sezee: "Dave, w'en yer en Dilsey gits ready fer ter git married, I ain' got no rejections. Dey's a poun' er so er chawin'-terbacker up at de house, en I reckon yo' mist'iss kin fine a frock en a ribbin er two fer Dilsey.
And when she had settled that according to her Scale of Charges, which were of the most Exorbitant Kind, she would Grin and say, "He dam ship, good consignee;" or, "He dam ship, dam rich owner; stick him on 'nother dam fi' poun' English, my chile;" and for some curious reason or another, 'twas seldom that a shipmaster cared to quarrel with Maum Buckey's Washing-Bills.
But the moment fowk says wha I am, ye touch na a poun' note mair, an' I coont mysel' free to pursue onything I can pruv agane ye." Mrs Catanach attempted a laugh of scorn, but her face was grey as putty, and its muscles declined response. "Ay or no," said Malcolm. "I winna gar ye sweir, for I wad lippen to yer aith no a hair."
Three months o' tongue haudin', an' there 's yer five poun'; an' Maister Soutar o' Duff Harbour 'ill pay 't intill yer ain han'. But brak troth wi' me, an' ye s' hear o' 't; for gien ye war hangt, the warl' wad be but the cleaner. Noo quit the hoose, an' never lat me see ye aboot the place again. But afore ye gang, I gie ye fair warnin' 'at I mean to win at a' yer byganes."
Put she tidn't pe fery happy after she tid think she had tone it, for you see he wasn't ta fery man his ownself, and tat must pe counted. But she tid kill something: what was it, Malcolm?" "Ye sent a gran' dish fleein'," answered Malcolm. "I s' warran' it cost a poun', to jeedge by the gowd upo' 't." "She'll hear a noise of preaking; put she tid stap something soft."
We may guess it from the next entry: May 2, By 1 famly bible 1 poun, 13 shillin That ended the rum chapter. There is not another spirituous entry in all of Ezekial Jackson's credits. "By one mometer" comes next, May 6th. Probably Captain Ben felt himself cooling down pretty rapidly for the season, and wanted to take the temperature.
He left his place beside Dad and, hat in hand, staggered to the middle of the yard. "WOH!" he shouted, and made an awkward attempt to embrace a red cow which was under the hammer. "SEV'N POUN' SEV'N POUN' SEV'N POUN'," shouted the auctioneer, rapidly. "Any advance on sev'n POUN'?" "At sev'n poun' she's GOING?" "You have n't twenty-two PENCE," snorted the auctioneer.
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