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"I know what it'll be fifteen bob a week for the first fortnight, and then twelve for a week, and then ten, and then eight, and then six, and then after we've clemmed on that for a month or two, the union'll say as the funds is dry, and the men had best go to work on the reduction. I knows their ways, and they're a cuss to us women." "Here be'st thy Jack. He grows a proper lad that."
"Man, it'll no' do muckle guid," said another, "ye mind hoo' big Geordie Ritchie ran awa' wi' the money o' the last union we started? It'll gi'e a wheen bigmouths a guid job and an easy time. That's a' it will do." "Oh, ay," answered Sinclair, "but that's no' to say that the union'll ay fail. Folks are no' a' Geordie Ritchies, an' they're no' a' bigmouths either.
"Oh, I'll turn oot a' richt at the meetin'," said Tam, who was always credited with seeing farther than most of his workmates, "an' I'll join the union, too, if it's formed; but ye'll see if ye live lang enough that the union'll no' be a' ye think it. The ither side will organize to bate ye every time." And with this encouraging prophecy, Geordie went on to the next house.
'I don't know how th' Union'll feel about it, but that's no business iv mine, he says. 'Ye will get ye'er wur-rkin-cards fr'm th' walkin' diligate, he says; 'an' ye'll be entitled, he says, 'to pay ye'er share iv th' taxes an' to live awhile an' die whin ye get r-ready, he says, 'jus' th' same as if ye was bor-rn at home, he says.
What do you suppose I'd want to kill you for?" said the doctor, who came of a logical breed. "'Ow do I know? Tell 'em in court. You'll get seven years for this, you body-snatcher. That's what you are a bloomin' bodysnatcher. There's justice, I tell you, in England; and my Union'll prosecute, too. We don't stand no tricks with people's insides 'ere.
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