She's a guid natur'd,
sonsy luikin' wife as ye wad see; an' for her een, they're jist
sic likes mine ain.--Haena ye near dune wi' that lamp yet?"
"The week of it 'll pe shust a lettle out of orter," answered the
old man. "Ta pairns has been' pulling it up with a peen from ta
top, and not putting it in at ta hole for ta purpose. And she'll pe
thinking you'll be cleaning off ta purnt part with a peen yourself,
rna'am, and not with ta pair of scissors she tolt you of, Mistress
Partan."
"Gae 'wa' wi' yer nonsense!" cried Meg. "Daur ye say 1 dinna ken
hoo to trim an uilyie lamp wi' the best blin' piper that ever cam
frae the bare leggit Heelans?"
"A choke's a choke, ma'am," said Duncan, rising with dignity; "put
for a laty to make a choke of a man's pare leks is not ta propriety!"
"Oot o' my hoose wi' ye!" screamed the she Partan. "Wad ye threep
(insist) upo' me onything I said was less nor proaper. 'At I sud
say what wadna stan' the licht as weels the bare houghs o' ony
heelan' rascal 'at ever lap a lawlan' dyke!"
"Hoot toot, Mistress Findlay," interposed Malcolm, as his grandfather
strode from the door; "ye maunna forget 'at he's auld an' blin';
an' a' heelan' fowk's some kittle (touchy) about their legs."
"Deil shochle them!" exclaimed the Partaness; "what care I for 's
legs!"
Duncan had brought the germ of this ministry of light from his
native Highlands, where he had practised it in his own house, no
one but himself being permitted to clean, or fill, or, indeed, trim
the lamp.
Pages:
107
108
109
110
111
112
113
114
115
116
117
118
119
120
121
122
123
124
125
126
127
128
129
130
131