My Man Sandy
chumla.  "I think I've seen Moses the waur o' a dram; but he looks a quiet eneuch stock," gays she. 

 "He's some like my man," I strak in.  "He's gey an' of'en oot aboot when he shud be at hame. There's no' muckle hertnin' for a woman when she's left to trauchle day oot day in wi' seven litlans, an' a thrawn-gabbit footer o' a man juist comin' in at 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 tarragats the wife most unmercifu' aboot ilky little bit kyowowy. She may be nae better than she's ca'd. She has nae throwpet wi' her wark, an' she's terriple weirdless wi' her hoose; but she get's michty little frae Moses to mend her—that's my opinion." 

 "Muckle aboot ane, Bawbie, as the deil said to the cobbler," says Mysie.  "I wudna say but you're mibby richt eneuch." 

 "Dawtit dochters mak' daidlin' wives," said the Gairner's wife.  "She was spoilt at hame, afore Moses saw her. Her mither thocht there was nae lassies 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 my mither used of'en to say, an ill shearer never got a guid heuk, an', I daursay, Moses an' his wife, as uswally occurs, baith blame ane anither." 

 We feenisht oor tea, an' got set doon at the winda wi' oor stockin's an' oor seams, juist to hae a richt corrieneuchin, as Mistress Winton ca'd 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 raither the better o' her. She forgot a' aboot her intaks, an' had her stockin' leg a guid bit ower lang when she cam' to the tnot on her wirsit. 

 "A thochtless body's aye thrang," said the Gairner's wife, as Mysie began to tak' doon what she'd wrocht. 

 "Toot ay," said Mysie.  "Gin a budy be gaen doon the brae, ilky ane 'ill gie ye a gundy." 

 The twa keepit at it wi' their proverbs till I got akinda nervish, d'ye ken. They were that terriple wyze, that, as fac's ocht, mind you, they near drave some o' the rest o's daft. 

 "Did you hear tell that Ribekka here was genna get Jeems Ethart?" said Mistress Mollison to the Gairner's wife, juist to get her on to Beek's tap. 


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