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An' gien he binna, there's ane 'at is, an' likesna sweirin'." "I beg yer pardon, auntie, but it's jist provokin'!" returned Fergus, and therewith recounted the tale of his night's watch, omitting mention only of his feelings throughout the vigil. As soon as he had had his breakfast, he went to carry his report to Glashruach.
Miss Napier guessed at the truth at once that he had overheard some free remarks on his well-known licence of behaviour. 'Weel, my lord, I do my best. But I believe ye're i' the richt, my lord, for I heard an awfu' aff-gang o' sweirin' i' the yard, jist afore yer lordship cam' in. An' noo' 'at I think o' 't, it wasna that onlike yer lordship's ain word. Lord Sandy broke into a loud laugh.
An' gin ye drive them to Jock Thamson's, or Jeemie Deuk's, it'll be just like savin' the word, I dinna inten' 't for sweirin', guid kens! I say it'll just be dammin' them afore their time, like the puir deils. Hech! but it'll come sune eneuch, an' they're muckle to be peetied!"
He cudna be jist that agreeable company to the likes o' her, puir leddy! for he was a rouch-spoken, sweirin' auld sinner as ever lived, but sic as he had he gae her, an' was said to hae been a fine gentleman in's yoong days. Some wad hae 't he cheenged a' thegither o' a suddent. An' they wad hae 't it cam o' bluid-guiltiness for they said he had liftit the reid han' agen his neebor.
"Is't my wyte, Curly?" she added. "Deil a bit o' 't!" cried Curly. "And I beg yer pardon for sweirin'. Your wyte! I was aye a fule. But maybe," he added, brightening a little, "I micht hae a chance�-some day-�some day far awa', ye ken, Annie?" "Na, na, Curly. Dinna think o' 't. There's no chance for ye, dear Curly." His face flushed red as a peony.
Troth! he wad whiles come aboot the place efter her, whaur I wad be at my wark, as it micht be the day, cursin' an' sweirin' as gien he had sellt his sowl to a' the deevils thegither, an' sae micht tak his wull o' onything he cud get his tongue roon'! But I never heedit him that muckle, for ye see it wasna him 'at peyt me the mair by token 'at gien it had been him 'at had the peyin' o' me, it's never a baubee wad I hae seen o' my ain siller; but the trustees peyt me, ilka plack, an' sae I was indepen'ent like, an' luit him say his say.
They war jist kin'-like at lairge, an' to naebody in partic'lar, like the man wi' his sweirin'. They gae to me jist as they wad to ony unco beggar wife. It was to me they gae't, no to you. Lat it a' lie upo' me." "That canna be, Grizzie," said Cosmo. "Ye see ye're ane o' the faimily, an' whatever ye du, I maun haud my face til."
I'm only jist come, an' I've seen naebody." "Go and tell Mrs Courthope I want Soutar. You'll find her crying somewhere the old chicken! because I swore at her. What harm could that do the old goose?" "It'll be mair for love o' yer lordship than fricht at the sweirin', my lord." "You think so? Why should she care? Go and tell her I'm sorry. But really she ought to be used to me by this time!
The dog had obeyed, and now stood worshipping her with his tail, while with his eyes he watched the enemy and his stick. "Hark ye, Covenant," she went on, "whan his sowl he selled him, the deevil telled him,'at never mair sud he turn a hair at cry or moanin' in highway or loanin', for greitin' or sweirin' or grane o' despair. Haud frae him, Covenant, my fine fallow, haud frae him."
I was ower swack for 'im; an' awa we rade. 'I didna ken 'at ye cud ride, Shargar. 'Hoots! I cudna help it. I was aye takin' the horse to the watter at The Boar's Heid, or The Royal Oak, or Lucky Happit's, or The Aucht an' Furty. That's hoo I cam to ken Jock sae weel. We war guid eneuch frien's whan I didna care for leein' or sweirin', an' sic like. 'And what on earth did ye want wi' 'im noo?
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