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Updated: May 14, 2025
But gie the yoong laird there ony o' the dirt ye're aye lickin' oot o' yer loof, an' the auld cat 'll be cryin' upo' the hoose-tap!" "Grizzie! Grizzie!" cried Cosmo, ceasing his work and coming back to where they stood, "ye'll ruin a'!" "What is there to ruin 'at he can ruin mair?" returned Grizzie.
Dang the chap, muttered John, looking into the empty dish as the waiter retired; 'does he ca' this a pie three yoong pigeons and a troifling matther o' steak, and a crust so loight that you doant know when it's in your mooth and when it's gane? I wonder hoo many pies goes to a breakfast!
"Use yer freedom, laird; I'm yer heumble servan'. It wadna be a watch for the yoong laird? I kenna " He stopped, and cast an anxious eye towards the window. "Na, na," interrupted the laird, sorry to have raised even so much of a vain hope in the mind of the man, "I'm as farfrae a watch as ye are frae the bank.
Nobbut what theer's soomat endearin i' these yoong flibberties yo conno let em want for owt bit it's the use of em worrits me above a bit." Certainly all that old Daffady could do to supply the girl's wants was done.
The boy stood there feeling the silence the tomb near by the wonder and pathos of fame, and all that thrill of undefined emotion to which youth yields itself so hungrily. The sexton startled him by tapping him on the shoulder. 'Time to go home, yoong man. My sister she told me to say good neet to yer, and she wishes yo good luck wi your journey. Where are yo puttin up?
They rose at the same moment to detain her. Like one who knew at once to fight and flee, she turned and stunned them as with a blow. 'She's a fine yoong thing, yon sister o' yours, Geordie. She'll be worth siller by the time she's had a while at the schuil. The men looked at each other aghast. When they turned their eyes she had vanished.
But one white and sickly fellow looked back to say: "An' it's a graat pity for a yoong mon like you, sir, to be doin' Muster Melrose's dirty work taakin' o' the police as though yo' had 'em oop your sleeve!" "Haven't I done what I could for you?" cried Faversham, stung by the reproach, and its effect on Lydia's face. "Aye mebbe but it's nowt to boast on."
The door of the gymnasium had opened and a lad, about sixteen, grimy and black with soot and iron, stepped into the yellow glare of the oil lamp. Ted Barton seized him by the collar. "See here, thou yoong whelp, this is private, and we want noan o' thy spyin'!" "But I maun speak to Mr. Wilson." The young Cantab stepped forward. "Well, my lad, what is it?" "It's aboot t' fight, Mr. Wilson, sir.
I shoot it efry time now, but the train she whistle. I hear her." The boy affected to listen earnestly. "Bah! I tell you I hear de whistle coming." "Did you say there was a whistle?" ventured the occupant of the stage. The snow shone white on his glasses as he peered out. "Nobody whistle for you," returned the robust Vogel. "You listen to me," he continued to the boy. "You are offle yoong.
He thinks hissen the Grand Turk, he do, since they gi'en him his uniform, and made him full keeper. A nassty, domineerin' sort, I calls him. He's allus makin' bad blood wi' the yoong fellers when he don't need. It's the way he's got wi' 'im. But I don't make no account of 'im, an' I let 'im see 't." All the tea-party grinned except Mrs. Hurd.
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