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Updated: May 31, 2025
'I'll tell ye what's wrang wi' you, Macgreegor Robi'son! Willie cleared his throat noisily. 'Listen! Ye're ower weel aff. Ye've got a dacent fayther an' mither an' brither an' sister; ye've got a dacent uncle; ye've got a dacent girl. . . . An' what the hell ha'e I got? A rotten aunt! Maybe she canna help bein' rotten, but she is damp rotten!
I'm awfu' vexed ye've got a sair heid. I suppose it's the heat. Ony objection to me callin' ye Macgreegor? 'That's a' richt, he replied kindly but uneasily. Her fingers were round his, and seemingly she forgot they were there, even when the lights went up. And he hadn't the courage shall we say? to withdraw them. The succeeding film depicted a throbbing love story.
There can be just the one general in a battle, but I'll give ye permission to say the word when to fire.... Macgreegor!" he muttered, a strange expletive only used in moments of deep emotion. "I'll wager ye'll be for sayin' the word afore I'd say it mysel'." He turned to the Princess. "I hand over to you, till I am back, for I maun be off and see to the Die-Hards.
'He's maybe no as douce as ye think, said Lizzie under her breath. 'What's that? 'Naething, John. She sighed heavily. 'What's wrang, wife? 'I was wishin' we had a niece called Maggie. . . . I suppose it's nae use askin' if ye ever heard o' Macgreegor ha'ein' an acquaintance o' that name. 'Maggie? Weel, it's no what ye would call a unique name. But what 'Listen, John.
'Macgreegor, if ye len' me thruppence the noo, I'll ca' it a bargain aboot the twa bob. He got the pennies then, and on the following day a florin, upon which he took a solemn oath. But as he fingered the silver later he smiled secretly and almost serenely.
'Dinna boast, said his mother. 'What wud you shoot, Christina, if you had a gun? 'I think I wud practise on a cocoa-nut, Jimsie, she said, with a small laugh. After tea Mrs. Robinson took Christina into the parlour while Jeannie tidied up. Presently the door bell rang, and Jimsie rushed to meet the postman. 'It's for Macgreegor, he announced, returning and handing a parcel to his mother.
'Oh, jist guessed. It's her? 'Maybe. . . . She hasna ta'en the ring yet. 'But ye think she will, or ye wudna ha'e tell't me. Weel, I'm sure I wish ye luck, Macgreegor. She's a bonny bit lass, rael clever, I wud say, an' an' gey stylish. 'She's no that stylish onyway, no stylish like Aunt Purdie. 'Ah, but ye maunna cry doon yer Aunt Purdie 'I didna mean that. But ye ken what I mean, fayther.
When Christina was here the day, a wee paircel cam' for Macgreegor, an' when I opened it, there was a pair o' socks wi' wi' fondest love from Maggie. 'Hurray for Maggie! 'But, John, Christina read the words! 'Oho! John guffawed. 'She wudna like that eh? 'Man, what are ye laughin' at? Ye ken Christina's terrible prood. 'No ony prooder nor Macgreegor is o' her. Lizzie.
'Lang may it bile! she remarked unfeeling. 'Wha are ye chasm' the nicht, Macgreegor? 'You! he replied more boldly than brightly. 'My! ye're gettin' quite forward-like, she said, with that pleasant giggle of hers. 'High time! said he, recklessly. After tea they went west and sat in the park. It was a lovely, hazy evening. 'Wud ye rayther be in a pictur' hoose, Maggie?
But it's your turn to weer it. Ye've been wounded a'ready. 'Na, na, Wullie! 'Dae what I tell ye, ye ! Willie made the exchange of headgear. . . . 'I say, Macgreegor! 'What? 'This is Flanders. Ye mind oor bet? Weel, we're quits noo. I'm no owin' ye onything eh? Macgregor grinned in spite of everything. 'Ay, we're quits noo, Wullie, sure enough.
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