United States or Saudi Arabia ? Vote for the TOP Country of the Week !
"The puir laird's gane back to his," said Malcolm. "I won'er gien he kens yet, or gien he gangs speirin' at ilk ane he meets gien he can tell him whaur he cam frae. He's mad nae mair, ony gait." "How? Will he pe not tead? Ta poor lairt! Ta poor maad lairt!" "Ay, he's deid: maybe that's what'll be troublin' yer sicht, daddy." "No, my son.
"I put my penny, and whiles my saxpence, intil the plate at the door when I gang to the kirk an' I was jist thinkin' I wad win there the morn's nicht at farest, whan I turnt an' saw ye stan'in there, sir; an' little I thoucht but that's neither here nor there, I'm thinkin'. I tell as feow lees as I can; I never sweir, nor tak the name o' the Lord in vain, anger me 'at likes; I sell naething but the best whusky; I never hae but broth to my denner upo' the Lord's day, an' broth canna brak the Sawbath, simmerin' awa' upo' the bar o' the grate, an' haudin' no lass frae the kirk; I confess, gien ye wull be speirin', 'at I dinna read my buik sae aften as maybe I sud; but, 'deed, sir, tho' I says't 'at sud haud my tongue, ye hae waur folk i' yer perris nor Benjie Croale's widow; an' gien ye wunna hae a drap to weet yer ain whustle for the holy wark ye hae afore ye the morn's mornin', I maun gang an' mak my bed, for the lass is laid up wi' a bealt thoom, an' I maunna lat a' thing gang to dirt an' green bree; though I'm sure it's rale kin' o' ye to come to luik efter me, an' that's mair nor Maister Rennie, honest gentleman, ever did me the fawvour o', a' the time he ministered the perris.
"Hoo d'ye kin I'll be at the T'nowhead the nicht?" he asked, grinning in anticipation. "Ou, I'se warrant ye'll be after Bell," said Eppie. "Am no sae sure o' that," said Sam'l, trying to leer. He was enjoying himself now. "Am no sure o' that," he repeated, for Eppie seemed lost in stitches. "Sam'l?" "Ay." "Ye'll be speirin' her sune noo, I dinna doot?"
"Ill deedit," returned Malcolm, " whan ye flang my bonny salmon troot till yer oogly deevil o' a dog." "Ho! ho! ho! Ill deedit, am I? I s' no forget thae bonny names! Maybe yer lordship wad alloo me the leeberty o' speirin' anither question at ye, Ma'colm MacPhail." "Ye may speir 'at ye like, sae lang 's ye canna gar me stan' to hearken. Guid day to ye, Mistress Catanach.
'Twas but another of the blows of Fate. "At any rate," he said in a broad Scotch accent, "ye come of kin that has helpit my maister afore this. I've many times heard tell o' Herveys and Townshends in England, and a' folk said they were on the richt side. Ye're maybe no a freend, but ye're a freend's freend, or I wadna be speirin' at ye." I was amused at the prologue, and waited on the tale.
Ay, ay, bein' a man, he wouldna think to tak off the chintz an' hae a look at the chair withoot it." Here Hendry, who had paid no attention to the conversation, broke in "Was ye speirin' had I seen Sam'l Duthie? I saw 'im yesterday buyin' a fender at Will'um Crook's roup." "A fender! Ay, ay, that settles the queistion," said Leeby; "I'll warrant the fender was for Chirsty's parlour.
We were unco gleg to win hame when a' this was dune, an' after steekin' the door, to sit an' birsle oor taes at the bit blaze. Mickle thocht we o' the gentles ayont the sea, an' sair grat we for a' frien's we kent lang syne in oor ain countree. Late at nicht, Fanny, the bonny gypsy, cam' ben the hoose an' tirled at the pin of oor bigly bower door, speirin' for baps and bannocks.
"The puir laird's gane back to his," said Malcolm. "I won'er gien he kens yet, or gien he gangs speirin' at ilk ane he meets gien he can tell him whaur he cam frae. He's mad nae mair, ony gait." "How? Will he pe not tead? Ta poor lairt! Ta poor maad lairt!" "Ay, he's deid: maybe that's what 'll be troublin' yer sicht, daddy." "No, my son.
Oor air hes a bit nip in't, and is mair searchin' than doon Sooth. Jamie 'ill be speirin' a' mornin' gin ye 'ill answer him, but a'm thinkin' ye'ill be warmer in the kirk." And Drumsheugh escorted Mr. Hopps to cover, who began to suspect that he had been turned inside out, and found wanting. Drumtochty had listened with huge delight, but without a trace of expression, and, on Mr.
If yer provost and baillies lookit efter things as they ocht, there wad be a dacent puirs-house for the idignant folk, an' a wheen daft leddies like Eesabel needna gang roun' speirin' at yon infeedels for their siller tae build a hoose o' refuse."
Word Of The Day