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Probably he had no responsibilities in the world, with no one to say him nay, himself only to consider in all the universe: a divine conception of adequate life. Yet himself, Charley Steele, an idler, a waster, with no purpose in life, with scarcely the necessity to earn his bread-never, at any rate, until lately was the slave of the civilisation to which he belonged.
"Ith auld Gourlay on the thtreet the nicht?" cried the Deacon eagerly. "I wonder will he thee the youngster afore he gets hame! Eh, man" he bent his knees with staring delight "eh, man, if they would only meet forenenst uth! Hoo!" "He's a regular waster," said Brodie. "When a silly young blood takes a fancy to a girl in a public-house he's always done for; I've observed it times without number.
God d n ye for a dhrunken waster! giddap! or I'll put th' boots tu yeh!" Terrible was the menace of the giant Irishman's face, his back-flung boot and his snarling, curiously low-pitched voice. "No! not Burke, old man! . . . ah, don't!" gasped the rich tenor voice pleadingly from the snow "ah, don't, Burke! . . . remember, remember . . . St. Agnes' Eve "St. Agnes' Eve.
This undid him, for the Queen, or her councillors, thinking from his first page that he had declined the honor, read no further, and appointed another man. Waster Lunny is still alive, but has gone to another farm. Sanders Webster, in his gratitude, wanted Nanny to become an Auld Licht, but she refused, saying, "Mr. Dishart is worth a dozen o' Mr. Duthie, and I'm terrible fond o' Mrs.
A waster stands for something, really. He says: 'No, I will not aid and abet society in this business of increase and hanging together, I will upset the apple-cart as much as I can, in my small way. Or else he says: 'No, I will not bother about others. If I have lusts, they are my own, and I prefer them to other people's virtues. So, a waster, a scamp, takes a sort of stand.
"No, nor a woman," rejoined Waster Lunny, "when she gets the chance. But, Elspeth, I believe I can guess what has fired that fearsome piper. Depend upon it, somebody has been speaking disrespectful about the crittur's ancestors." "His ancestors!" exclaimed Elspeth, scornfully. "I'm thinking mine could hae bocht them at a crown the dozen."
These sounds I am unaware of until they stop, when I look up. Such a stillness was broken now by music. From my window I saw a string of people walking rapidly down the glen, and Waster Lunny crossing his potato-field to meet them. Remembering that, though I was in my stocking soles, the ground was dry, I hastened to join the farmer, for I like to miss nothing. I saw a curious sight.
Unless that is Waster Lunny's grieve foddering the cattle in the snow, not a living thing is visible. Most wintry sign of all, I think as I close the window hastily, is the open farm-stile, its poles lying embedded in the snow where they were last flung by Waster Lunny's herd.
Even with the aid of my field-glass I could not estimate the damage on more distant farms, for the rain, though now thin and soft, as it continued for six days, was still heavy and of a brown color. After breakfast which was interrupted by my bantam cock's twice spilling my milk saw Waster Lunny and his son, Matthew, running towards the shepherd's house with ropes in their hands.
"U-u-u-mm!" said the Demon. "I'll go with them." "I shall also go with my child," said the mother. "James, you will go too." But Breede had acted without waiting to talk. "Other car'll be here, 'n' I telephoned for quarters on boat. 'S full up, but they'll manage. Chap might cut her throat." "U-u-u-mm!" said the Demon. "Half pas' ten," reminded Breede. "Hurry!" Bean had accosted the waster.
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