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Updated: May 8, 2025
It isn't dignified. It isn't respectful. It's a disgrace to Miss Peggy. Do you hear?" "Yas yas sir. We we hears," answered the little darkies in chorus, the whites of their eyes rolling and their knees fairly smiting together. How could they have been guilty of thus slighting their adored young mistress? "Please, sah, wha's his name ef taint Jule?" Augustus plucked up heart of grace to ask.
So Sir Walter just happed her in the pouch of his plaid, and tumbled her out, snug as a lamb and nane the wiser, in the big room wha's walls were lined with books." Auld Jock betrayed not a glimmer of intelligence as to the personal bearing of the story, but he showed polite interest. "I ken naethin' aboot Sir Walter or ony o' the grand folk." Mr.
Kent glowered down at him, made a swift, mental decision, and pipped him by the shoulder. "You come with me," he commanded. "I've got something important I want to tell you. Come on if you can walk." "'Course I c'n walk all righ'. Shertainly I can walk. Wha's makes you think I can't walk? Want to inshult me? 'Sall my friends here no secrets from my friends. Wha's want tell me? Shay it here."
She sat down on a stool in the kitchen, and lork! how she did cry! Howsivir, all on a sudden she hard a sort of a knockin' low down on the door. She upped and oped it, an' what should she see but a small little black thing with a long tail. That looked up at her right kewrious, an' that said: "What are yew a-cryin' for?" "Wha's that to yew?" says she.
From the completeness of the organization, no merely local question can be brought before the provincial legislature, and it would be well if Imperial Parliament could, by similar means, be relieved of an immense amount of business, inconsistent with its dignity. 'Eh! what's this? asked Davidson, stopping before the partially raised walls of a wooden cottage. 'Wha's gaun to live here?
The policeman returns, preceded by a physician the only one to be got at, he says in very dilapidated broadcloth, and whose breath is rather strong of gin. "An' whereabutes did ye pick the woman up, an, an, wha's teu stond the bill?" he inquires, in a deep Scotch brogue, then ordering the little window opened, feels clumsily the almost pulseless hand.
She's a gay good-lookin female, that I'll confess to, but study her; look at her curls, Davy, an her paint, an her nakedness. For shame, madam! Goo hide that neck o' yourn, goo hide it, I say! An her faldaddles, an her jewles, an her ribbons. Is that a woman a French hizzy like that to get a King out o' trooble, wha's awready lost aw t' wits he wor born wi?
Man, Jock Goudie has won the C.B." "Jock Goudie" an envious bodie will pucker as if he had never heard the name "Jock Goudie? Wha's he for a Goudie? Oh ay, let me see now. Oo-ooh, I ken him fine. His grannie keepit a sweetie-shop in Strathbungo." There you have the "nesty" Scotsman. So, too, on lower grounds, would his wife's sluttishness.
But the voice of her husband was heard from within "Wha's that, Maggie? what for are ye steaking them out? let them come in; it doesna signify an auld rope's end wha comes in or wha gaes out o' this house frae this time forward." The woman stood aside at her husband's command, and permitted Lord Glenallan to enter the hut.
Thomas took it with some sign of tenderness, and holding it up in his huge hand, put the question to the crowd in general. "Wha's aucht this?" "It's cripple Truffey's?" piped a shrill little voice. "Tell him 'at I'll account for't," rejoined Thomas, and putting the animal in his pocket, departed.
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