My Man Sandy

they say that weemin have most dreedfu' lang tongue

w on my Sabbath goon, an' awa' I gaed. I fell in wi' Mistress Kenawee on the road, an', gin we landit, there was a gaither

nda. But, faigs, Mysie was prood o't, an' nae mistak. It was made i' the first o' fashion, a' drawn i' the briest, an' shuders as big's smokit hams, wi' Mysie'

swal. She'd as muckle on as wudda dressed tw

er is, I thocht Mistress Kenawee a fell sicht hersel'. There was a great target o' black braid hingin' frae the tail o' her goon, an' the back seam o' her body was riven in twa-t

ikaver was quite my leddy, an' was rinnin' frae the teen to the tither o's juist terriple anxious to mak's a' at hame, an' makin's a' meesirable. I windered that the cratur didna ga

nin' she tell'd's. She has an awfu' hoosefu' o' stech, Mistress Mikaver; press efter press, an

braw noo pentin' o' the scone-baker hung abune the chumla. He maun hae left a fell

er; it's that refreshin', especially if you've somebody to crack till when you're at it. An', I'll swag, we didna weary for want o' crackin' th

a' at hame," said Mistress Mikave

stress Winton, an' set's a' to the lauchin'. You never heard sic a cratur for thae auld-farrant sayin's; a

ntin' oot at the winda. "She's a clorty, weirdless-lookin' cratur. I'm doo

the bairns I'm sorra for. Ye'll see them i' the mornin' gaen awa' berfit to the skule, an' a seerip piece i' their hand, wi' fient

reed. He kent what she was afore he married her. Ye canna mak' a silk purse o

at o' your ain kind an' it'll no' scart ye, my mither used t

very week to keep her hoose wi'. What she does wi't it beats me to mak' oot. Mony a mithe

your braw billies ye wudna need to follow ower their ain doorstap. When there's din an' dirt i' the hoose, the wife aye gets the dirdu

've tell'd Moses that till's face afore the day. They'

deevil's sister," says Mysie; an' even Ribekka gae her moo a d

; an' she took a lang breth throo her nose, an' lookit up at the picture abune the chumla.

diet times, rennyin' aboot first ae thing an' syne anither, threapin' that his porritch is no' half boiled, simmerin' an' winterin' aboot haen to wait a meenit or twa for his denner or his tea. Moses Certricht's a soor, nyattery bit body, an' he tar

said to the cobbler," says Mysie. "I wu

es like hers, an' I'm shure she saired them hand an' fit. But you'll of'en see't, that wirkin' mithers mak' feckless dochters. At the same time, as

it. Mysie an' me were baith at ribbit socks, so we tried a stent wi' ane anither. But Mysie's tongue gaed fully fester than her wires, an' I'd r

aid the Gairner's wife, as Mysie be

budy be gaen doon the brae,

rvish, d'ye ken. They were that terriple wyze, that, as fac'

et Jeems Ethart?" said Mistress Mollison to the

ongue alang her upper lip, she shook her heid an' says, "Jui

the wey o't is't? Imphm! What d'ye think o' that, na? Weel dune, Ribekka. He's a fine

itin apron, an' was enjoyin' the raggin' fine, alt

"Gin I were Ribekka I'd bide my leen. I wud like to s

o gie Mysie a backca'; for she was sailin' gey near th

the Gairner's wife strak in; an' I s

grumph. "Better keep the deil atower t

' worried on the tail," was the Gairner's wife's

when you was up-by at the Provost's," said Ribekka to Mysie. "If it hadna been for the lid o' the

rty lauch at Rib

to hae his crack wi' Mysie at the winda, in he gaed up to the lugs. The story was that Mysie fair lost her chance wi' him, wi' burstin' oot lauchin' when he climbed oot o' the barrel soakin'-dreepin' th

r happened; but, the man that cheats me ance, shame fa' him; gin he

' a' tirr-wirr aboot the best cure for the kink-host, when the doonstairs door gaed clash to the wa', an' i

e, Sandy," says I, I s

ut the fewer they fess the b

meddlin' wi'

tanin' pechin' like a podlie oot o' the watt

sts unbidden," said Mysie; but Sandy gae her a

wrang, Sandy," I sa

Sandy. "There's a tinkler wife needin' a bawbee's-w

cht you here? You'll get it in a mustard tin

e tinkler wif

said Mistress Kenawee,

nin' to her gey ill-n

says Mysie. "Weel, weel; they're scarce o

he till atore ye get back," I said. "Rin aw

the pileeceman tippence to stand at the door till

wirth o' grund ceenimin?" said the Gair

yne wi' the door in's hand, he says, "The pileeceman's in a hurry too, ye see. He has to hurl hame Gairner Winton. He's lyin'

' her moo shut, as if she wud never open't again; but efter a whilie she spat oot twa-three wirds,

nybody get cankered. Come awa' and sit doon, Mistress Winton. Bawbie's man juist want

t sittin' on heckle-pins thinkin' ilka meenit Sandy wud be comin' thrash in on's, roarin' he'd set the parafin cask afeyre. I was gled when I got hame an' fand a'thing in win

here when you cam' b

he. "I gae he

r deduckin' the pileeceman's tippence," I says, says I. "Ho

udda been a le

ye didna ken wha

'lous, an' me the mester

eceman tippence to watch a tinkler wife that wantit only a b

mibby hae the toon peyin' a lot o' bawbees for keepin' her in the gyle, forby railroad ticket

en ye think you have him at ae hole, he juist pops throo anither. Tach! Wh