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Updated: July 5, 2025
'But ye believt it yersel, Kirsty! 'Wad ye hae me leear and hypocrite forby, to ca' fowk ill names for sayin what I believt mysel! 'But I am a cooard, Kirsty! 'Ye are not, Francie. I wunna believe't though yersel say 't! It's naething but a dist o' styte and nonsense 'at's won in throu the cracks ye got i' yer heid, fechtin. Ye was aye a daft kin' o' a cratur, Francie!
"What d'ye want to come back 'ere for, upsettin' Jin like this'n?" he blurted. "What the blazes have I done to upset Jin?" I asked. "Why didna y' bring 'er back wi' ye, then?" "Who's her, you jolt-head?" I demanded angrily. "That leddy o' yourn. Jin's that upset 'er wunna luk at me, an' we wor gettin' on fine." It was no use talking to Joe.
She saw the cigarette dancing on his full red lips. She hated his thick hair for being tumbled loose on his forehead. "Sweet boy!" said Beatrice, tipping up his chin and giving him a little kiss on the cheek. "I s'll kiss thee back, Beat," he said. "Tha wunna!" she giggled, jumping up and going away. "Isn't he shameless, Miriam?" "Quite," said Miriam. "By the way, aren't you forgetting the bread?"
For instance, Heaven has sent you me." "So a' might," Master Anerley replied; "but without a voice from the belly of a fish, I wunna' believe that He sent Bob Lyth." Now Robin Lyth held himself in good esteem; as every honest man is bound to do, or surely the rogues will devour him.
Now gang your ways hame, like a gude bairn jouk and let the jaw gae by Keep out o' sight o' Rashleigh, and Morris, and that MacVittie animal Mind the Clachan of Aberfoil, as I said before, and by the word of a gentleman, I wunna see ye wranged.
He received a flat negative. 'My mam didna like it. And she said it'd be the end of going in the woods and all my gamesome days. And she said tears and torment, tears and torment was the married lot. And she said, "Keep yourself to yourself. You wunna made for marrying any more than me. Eat in company, but sleep alone" that's what she said, Mr. Marston.
"Waiter! bring a pack of cards." "What's that ye're wantin'?" asked Mr. Bishopriggs, doubting the evidence of his own senses. "A pack of cards," repeated Arnold. "Cairds?" echoed Mr. Bishopriggs. "A pack o' cairds? The deevil's allegories in the deevil's own colors red and black! I wunna execute yer order. For yer ain saul's sake, I wunna do it.
None wants me. I wunna miserable at the Calla. Let me go! She stared at Mrs. Marston with terrified eyes. 'She's as awful as death, she said, 'the old lady. As awful as Mr. Reddin when he's loving. I'm feared, Ed'ard! I'd liefer go. But Edward's arm was round her. His hand was on her trembling one.
"Suspected ye o' quoting Shakspere in our pulpits." "And cannot a man quote in a sermon? Why, Jabez Hanks, I've heard ye quote Matthew Henry by the fathom." "Ye've never heard me quote a stage-play in a pulpit, Brother Smith," said Jabez Hanks, majestically. "And as long as I'm chapel-steward it wunna' be tolerated in this chapel." "Wunna it?" Jock put in defiantly.
I wanted to get rid of this species of chat, and finding myself near the entrance of a footpath which made a short cut to Duntarkin, I put half a crown into my guide's hand, bade him good-evening, and plunged into the woods. "Hout, sir fie, sir no from the like of you. Stay, sir, ye wunna find the way that gate.
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