Lammie.'
'Hoot! never min' the man,' said Lammie, looking round in the
direction indicated. 'I s' warran' he cares as little aboot hiz as
we care aboot him. There's nae treason noo a-days. I carena wha
hears what I say.'
'For my pairt,' said Mr. Peddie, 'I canna help wonnerin' gin it cud
be oor auld frien' Mr. Faukener.'
'Speyk o' the de'il--' said Mr. Lammie.
'Hoot! na,' returned Peddie, interrupting. 'He wasna a'thegither the
de'il.'
'Haud the tongue o' ye,' retorted Lammie. 'Dinna ye ken a proverb
whan ye hear 't? De'il hae ye! ye're as sharpset as a missionar'.
I was only gaun to say that I'm doobtin' Andrew's deid.'
'Ay! ay!' commenced a chorus of questioning.
'Mhm!'
'Aaay!'
'What gars ye think that?'
'And sae he's deid!'
'He was a great favourite, Anerew!'
'Whaur dee'd he?'
'Aye some upsettin' though!'
'Ay. He was aye to be somebody wi' his tale.'
'A gude-hertit crater, but ye cudna lippen till him.'
'Speyk nae ill o' the deid. Maybe they'll hear ye, and turn roon'
i' their coffins, and that'll whumle you i' your beds,' said
MacGregor, with a twinkle in his eye.
'Ring the bell for anither tum'ler, Sampson,' said the chairman.
'What'll be dune wi' that factory place, noo? It'll be i' the
market?'
'It's been i' the market for mony a year. But it's no his ava. It
belangs to the auld leddy, his mither,' said the weaver.
'Why don't you buy it, Mr. MacGregor, and set up a cotton mill?
There's not much doing with the linen now,' said Mr.
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