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Wha's yer yard-stick, ole debbil? Den Meshach he say, 'De hat I tuk it in wid, done gone burnt by dat ole Hominy, makin' of her puddin's. 'Den, says de Judge, 'ye ain't measured me squar. I won't play. Take it all back! Chillen, we must git dat ar ole hat, or de slave-buyers done take us all."
Even in that limbo or no-man's-land where I was wandering, lights were made in the houses; sashes were flung up; I could hear neighbouring families converse from window to window, and at length I was challenged myself. "Wha's that?" cried a big voice.
"Paass tin cups once mo', gen'lemen!" tink tink "March," said Champion, "if you'll excuse the personality, what's changed you so?" John laughed and said he didn't think he was changed, but if he was he reckoned it was evolution. Which did not satisfy Shotwell, who had "quaffed, ha-ha!" till he was argumentative. "Don't you 'scuse personal'ty 't all, March. I know wha's change' you.
Beneath the flickering, bruised-looking lids, tears slowly oozed. The neighbour felt for a pocket-handkerchief under the pillow, and wiped them away. "Fact o' th' matter, Mis' Green," she inflexibly pursued her subject, "yu ha' made a raglar idle o' that gal; yu ha' put a sight o' finery on 'er back, an' stuffed 'er hid wi' notions; an' wha's a-goin ter become on 'r when you're gone?"
The two faces in the firelight looked so much alike that my heart gave a great thump, and I vowed that girl should never be set adrift again. This is the second time she has been cast upon my shore, and I must see to her." So Mary Mason dropped into our family circle without anybody having very much to say in the matter except my mother! "Wha's yon 'at Eesabell's ta'en up wi' the noo?"
Wha's been straikin' you against the hair, cratur? It wasna me that shuved Bandy i' the boiler; but he'd been neen the waur o' a bit steep, for he trails aboot a clorty-like sicht. Him speak aboot the watter supply! It's no' muckle he kens aboot the watter supply, or the soap supply ether."
'Wha's son 's the hump backit cratur', says she, ''at comes in i' the gig whiles wi' the groom lad, think ye? 'Wha's but the puir man's 'at 's deid? says I. 'Deil a bit o' 't! says she, 'an' I beg yer pardon for mentionin' o' him, says she.
Wha's that, I wad say? and fat a deil want ye at this hour at e'en? Clean again rules clean again rules, as they ca' them." The protracted tone in which the last words were uttered, betokened that the speaker was again composing himself to slumber. But my guide spoke in a loud whisper "Dougal, man! hae ye forgotten Ha nun Gregarach?"
Eskimo fathers and mothers are not, as a rule, nervous or anxious about their offspring. In a remarkably short space of time Pussi and Tumbler, walking hand in hand, put more than a mile of "bush" between them and their feeding-place. "Oh! wha's dat?" exclaimed Pussi, stopping short, and gazing into the thicket in front of her.
'Noo, Kirsty, ye jist needna gang aboot to gar me mistrust ane wha's the verra mirror o' a' knichtly coortesy, rejoined Phemy, speaking out of the high-flown, thin atmosphere she thought the region of poetry, 'for ye canna! Naething ever onybody said cud gar me think different o' him! 'Nor naething ever he said himsel? asked Kirsty. 'Naething, answered Phemy, with strength and decision.
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