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"Whaur is she now? Whaur does the flies vanish to in winter? We ken they're some gait, but whaur?" "But what are the people saying about her?" "Daft things," said Jean. "Old Charles Yuill gangs the length o' hinting that she's dead and buried." "She could not have buried herself, Jean," Margaret said, mildly. "I dinna ken. Charles says she's even capable o' that."
I did not even realize that I was holding my head painfully to the side where it had been blown by the wind and glued by the rain. I have never held my head straight since that journey. Only a few looms were going, their pedals in water. I was addressed from several doors and windows, once by Charles Yuill. "Dinna pretend," he said, "that you've walked in frae the school- house alane.
Old Charles Yuill was in his pew, after dreaming thrice that he would break up with the drought; and Bell Christison had come, though her man lay dead at home, and she thought it could matter no more to her how things went in the world. You, who do not love that little congregation, would have said that they were waiting placidly.
"Ay, lay them down," the precentor whispered, "but keep your feet on them." Then the minister, who was shaking with excitement, though he did not know it, stretched forth his arms for silence, and it came so suddenly as to frighten the people in the neighboring streets. "If he prays we're done for," cried young Charles Yuill. but even in that hour many of the people were unbonneted.
"There was some angry muttering from the crowd, and young Charles Yuill exclaimed, 'Dagon you, would you lord it ower us on week-days as well as on Sabbaths?" "'Have you on your Sabbath shoon or have you no on your Sabbath shoon? 'Guid care you took I should ha'e the dagont things on! retorted the farmer." It will be seen that "dagont," as used above, is the Scotch form of "dog-oned." But Mr.
He had only one arm through the sleeve of his jacket, and his feet were bare. "I am Mr. Dishart. Are the soldiers already in the square, Yuill?" "They'll be there in a minute." The man was so weak that Gavin had to hold him. "Be a man, Charles. You have nothing to fear. It is not such as you the soldiers have come for.
A detachment of the soldiers were marching down the Roods from the north. "There's some coming frae the east-town end," was the next intelligence; "and they've gripped Sanders Webster, and auld Charles Yuill has given himsel' up." "You see, you see," the gypsy said, flashing triumph at Gavin. "Lay down your weapons," Gavin cried, but his power over the people had gone.
As Yuill spoke the quick rub-a-dub of a drum was heard. "The soldiers!" Gavin let go his hold of the old man, who hastened away to give himself up. "That's no the sojers," said a woman; "it's the folk gathering in the square. This'll be a watery Sabbath In Thrums." "Rob Dow," shouted Gavin, as Dow flung past with a scythe in his hand, "lay down that scythe." "To hell wi' religion!"
He had glimpses of several of its deserted streets. To the south the watch-light showed brightly, but no other was visible. So it seemed to Gavin, and then suddenly he lost the power to of people at one moment and empty the next, the minister stumbled over old Charles Yuill, "Take me and welcome," Yuill cried, mistaking Gavin for the enemy.
"Joseph Cruickshanks," responded Gavin grimly, "you will find no cards down there." Then Rob also came to the foot of the stair. There was some angry muttering from the crowd, and young Charles Yuill exclaimed, "Curse you, would you lord it ower us on week-days as weel as on Sabbaths?" "Lay down your weapons," Gavin said to the six men. They looked at each other.
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