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Man, I've seen me gaen to the kirk wi' Bawbie sometimes, dressed in my sirtoo an' my lum, an' my gloves an' pocket-hankie, an' a'thing juist as snod's a noo thripenny bit, an', a' o' a sudden, I wud hae to pet my tongue atween my teeth, an' grip my umberell like's I was wantin' to chock it, juist to keep mysel' frae tumblin' a fleepy or a catma i' the middle o' the road amon' a' the kirk fowk, him hat, sirtoo, an' a'thegither.
"Ay, man, so it is," says Sandy, takin' a slaik o't aff wi' his fingers, an' syne dichtin't on the tail o' his sirtoo, the nesty character, 'at I shud say sic a wird!
Sandy had on his sirtoo an' his lum gin this time, an' he was gaen about makin' a terriple noise, blawin' his nose in his Sabbath hankie, an' lookin', haud your tongue, juist as big's bull beef. He gaed into the washin'-hoose to cowshin the laddies, for they were makin' a terriple din.
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