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The koir sang an anthem i' the efternune, an' Sandy sang anither at the same time, the rest o' the fowk harkenin' to the competition. Sandy gaed squawlin' an' squawkin' up an' doon amon' the quivers, an' through the middle o' what he ca'd the cruchits, juist like a young pairtrick amon' a pozel o' hag.
I'm shure we hadna abune a moofu' o' tea drucken, an' Sandy was juist awa' to tak' aff' the ham, when the fryin' pan was knockit ooten his hand, an' doon the lum cam' a pozel o' bricks an' shute that wudda filled a cairt. Sandy fell back ower an' knockit Mistress Kenawee richt i' the flure.
It was juist upo' the stroke o' nine o'clock, an' I was juist noo dune shuttin' the shop. The door was aff the snib; an', keep me, when I lookit in, here's Sandy wi' an Oddfella's kilt an' a bushbie on, an' his ilky-day's claes lyin' in a pozel on the table. I kent the kilt whenever I saw't; it was the ane Dauvit Kenawee wears in the Oddfellas' processions.
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