My Man Sandy

air o' 'lastic-sided buits that gaed squakin' to the kirk like twa croakin' hens. I've seen the fowk sometimes turn roond-aboot in their seats, when Sandy cam' creakin' up the passage,

hae gey streets on Sabbath. The noise the maitter o' twenty chields lik

sayin', Sandy's terriple fairntickled aboot the neck an' the sides o' the nose, an' oor lest holiday made him a hankie waur than uswal. He's a gey prood mannie

his body. There's naethin' he disna ken aboot-an', the fac' is, he kens naething. He's aye i' the wey o' improvin' ither fowk's wark. There's naethin' Saunders disna think he could improve, excep' himsel' mibby. I canna be b

irs press. He had rubbit it on his face an' neck afore he gaed till his bed; but he wasna an 'oor beddit when he had to rise. An' sik a sicht as he was! His face an' neck were as yellow's mairyguilds

rs what'll tak' it aff," says

kles aff him," says he; an' faigs, mind you, there's nae sayin

shin'-hoose, him an' twa-three mair's never lain oot o't. Lyin' smokin' an' spittin' an' crackin' aboot life bein' a trauchle, an' so on!

s he's gotten a hair i' my neck noo that'll haud him gaen a while. He was needin't, I can tell you. If i

a while. I pet them on mibby to rin an errand or twa, till they get the set o' my fit, an' syne I can manish them to the kirk. But I canna sit wi' noo buits; they're that uneasy. I got a noo pair lest Fursday, a

an' my knees knokit up acrain' ane anither like's they'd haen a pley aboot something. I fand a sweit brakin' oot a' ower me, an' I had to stop on the brae an' grip the railin's, or, it's juist as fac's ocht, I wudda been doon i' th

think I'm genna dee. Ye micht juist sit doon

Bawbie," says she. "We're gey late

come oot for a dander a bittie, an' noticed the twa o's; so she cam' up, an' I got her airm an' Mysie's, an', though it was a gey job, we manishe

b's bairns at hame, you see, an' this is the collery or the renderpest or something come ower you twa, an' I'm feard o' smittin'

s Konawee. She kent aboot Sandy's fairntickles afore, o

" says I, "till I see

er's ready!" He lookit me up an' doon, an' then booin' doon till he was for a' the world juist like a half-steekit knife he roars oot, "What's ado wi' your feet,

an' curled roond like's they were gaen awa' back ahent m

ang feet! Nae winder than your knees were knokin' thegither wi' t

ss Kenawee, the bissam, was like to tnet hersel' lauchin'; but; I ashur