But I was speikin' aboot buiks an' no aboot women, only somehoo whatever a man begins wi', he'll aye en' aff wi' the same thing. The Lord hae a care o' them, for they're awfu' craters! They're no like ither fowk a'thegither. Weel, ye see, I had a room till mysel', forby the library an' my bedroom an' a gran' place that was!
What wad ye convert me till? A swine? Or a sma' peddlin' crater that tak's a bawbee mair for rowin' up the pigtail in a foul paper? Ca' ye that conversion? I'll bide as I am." "It's waste o' precious time speikin' to you, Mr Cupples," returned Bruce, moving off with a red face. "'Deed is't," retorted Cupples; "and I houp ye winna forget the fac'? It's o' consequens to me."
And syne he played them again aboot aucht o'clock at nicht, to lat them ken 'at it was time for dacent fowk to gang to their beds. Ye see, there wasna sae mony clocks and watches by half than as there is noo. 'Was he a guid piper, grannie? 'What for speir ye that? 'Because I tauld that sunk, Lumley 'Ca' naebody names, Robert. But what richt had ye to be speikin' to a man like that?