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Updated: June 3, 2025
With an effort he said coldly: 'If ye had stopped wi' us ye wudna ha'e been back at the beer an' broke yer pledge. 'Wha tell't ye I was at the beer? 'Yer breath, ye eediot! 'Ho! so ye was pretendin' ye was sleepin' when I spoke to ye! Cooard to smell a man's breath wi' yer eyes shut! Macgregor turned wearily away. 'It's nae odds to me what ye drink, he said.
As I tell't ye, it's no so bad," she said at last. "Wha's the trouble, Ellen? Don't keep us waitin'." "Bide ye in patience, child. Ye're always so easily excitet. I maun read the letter again to get the gist o't, but it's like this. The Elder's been of the opeenion noo these three years that his son was most foully murder't, an "
Her sister looked at her fondly. "Ye're no so auld, Jean, but ye might be aulder. It's like I might have been the mither of her, for I mind the time when she was laid in my arms and my feyther tell't me I was to aye care for her like my ain, an' but for her I would na' be livin' noo." "And why for no?" asked Jean, quickly. "I had ye to care for, child. Do ye no' understand?" Jean laughed merrily.
It'll be warse for him if harm cums t' th' bairns, or me either! Aa tell't him that this mornin', an' aa said he might tell his Almighty that he taaked see much aboot, if he liked."
She ca's him Sandy hersel'; I've heard her of'en." Did ever ye hear what impident young fowk's gettin' noo-a-days? It's raley terriple. When I was young, if I'd sen the like o' that, I'd gotten a smack i' the side o' the heid that wudda garred the wa' tak's anither. "Oo, ay," says Sandy, when I tell't him.
As for Dand, it will be enough to describe their first meeting, when Frank had been whipping a river and the rustic celebrity chanced to come along the path. "I'm told you're quite a poet," Frank had said. "Wha tell't ye that, mannie?" had been the unconciliating answer. "O, everybody!" says Frank. "God! Here's fame!" said the sardonic poet, and he had passed on his way.
She had a rosy face and iron-gray hair and her accent was distinctly Scotch. "I am Mrs. MacFayden, Doctor Craig's hoose-keeper," she said. "Doctor Craig is mair than sorry not to be here to greet ye baith. He tell't me to say ye should mak' yersels quite at hame, and should hae yer dinners wi'oot waitin' for him.
"It's the truth at last, that I've been lyin' aboot these three lang years, thank the Lord!" "Jean, is it thankin' the Lord ye are, for lyin'?" "Ellen, ye mind whan ye broke ye'r leg an' lay in the south chamber that lang sax months?" "Aye, weel do I mind it." "Lat be wi' ye're interruptin' while I tell't. He came here." "Who came here?" "Richard the poor lad! He tell't me all aboot it.
It was in the Sylvester Arms he first heard it, and straightway fell into one of those foaming frenzies characteristic of him. "The dochter o' Moore o' Kenmuir, d'ye say? sic a dochter o' sic a man! The dochter o' th' one man in the warld that's harmed me aboon the rest! I'd no ha' believed it gin ye'd no tell't me. Oh, David, David!
Your Royal Highness wants to go on, and there's not a man here who does not honour you for your courage. Now, sir, I will go on, and so shall every man here I can command or influence, if those who hae tell't ye behind my back that they think we ought to go on will put their opinion down in writing and subscribe their names to it, here and now. One condition more, sir.
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