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Eh, sirce, if you had only seen oor street! The beach ootby at the Saut Pan, whaur there's a free coup for rubbitch, was naething till't! It juist mindit me o' the picture, in oor big Bible, o' Jerusalem when the fowk cam' back frae Babylon till't it was juist a' lyin' a cairn o' lowse steens an' half bricks. There's neen o's 'ill forget Friday nicht in a hurry, or I'm muckle misteen.
He's as sharp wi' me as one o' them lawyer chaps, dang 'em, and he's a lot of I O's and rubbitch o' mine; and Bryerly writes to me he can't gi'e me my legacy, 'cause he's got a notice from Archer and Sleigh a warnin' him not to gi'e me as much as a bob; for I signed it away to governor, he says which I believe's a lie. I may a' signed some writing 'appen I did when I was a bit cut one night.
Rusk, who was a sound and bitter churchwoman, said he fancied he saw visions and talked with angels like the rest of that 'rubbitch. I don't know that she had any better foundation than analogy and conjecture for charging my father with supernatural pretensions; and in all points when her orthodoxy was not concerned, she loved her master and was a loyal housekeeper.
What wad come o' the like o' me, div ye think, broucht up upo' meal brose, an' herrin', gien ye was to set me doon to sic a denner as my lord, yer father, wad ait ilka day, an' think naething o'? But gien some fowk hed the buyin' o' my buiks, I'm thinkin' the first thing I wad hae to du, wad be to fling the half o' them into the burn." "What good would that do?" "Clear awa' the rubbitch.
But Vessons was, as he would have phrased it himself, 'in full honey-flow, and not to be silenced. 'Single she be, and single she'd ought to stay. This 'ere rubbitch of kissing and clipping! 'But, Vessons, if there were no children gotten, the world'd be empty. 'Let 'un be. 'Im above'll get a bit of rest, nights, from their sins. 'Eh, I like that old chap, thought Hazel.
Rusk inveighing against 'them rubbitch, as she always termed the Swedenborgians, told me 'they were making him quite shaky-like, and he would not last no time, if that lanky, lean ghost of a fellow in black was to keep prowling in and out of his room like a tame cat. I lay awake that night, wondering what the mystery might be that connected my father and Dr. Bryerly.
The ham dip gaed up the lum in a gloze, an' here was Sandy an' Dauvid's wife lyin' i' the middle o' a' the mairter o' rubbitch. Mistress Kenawee's face, puir thing, was as white as a cloot; but Sandy's was as black as the man More o' Vennis, the bleckie that smored his wife i' the theatre for carryin' on wi' a sodger. What a job Dauvid an' me had gettin' them roond.
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