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MacDonald, George, 1824-1905

"Alec Forbes of Howglen"

"What gars ye hirple?"
"Juno bitet me," answered Annie.
"Ay! Verra weel!" returned Alec, in a tone that had more meaning than
the words.
Soon after the Bible-class was over, and they had all taken their
seats, a strange quiet stir and excitement gradually arose, like the
first motions of a whirlpool at the turn of the tide. The master became
aware of more than the usual flitting to and fro amongst the boys, just
like the coming and going which preludes the swarming of bees. But as
he had little or no constructive power, he never saw beyond the
symptoms. They were to him mere isolated facts, signifying present
disorder.
"John Morison, go to your seat," he cried.
John went.
"Robert Rennie, go to your seat."
Robert went. And this continued till, six having been thus passed by,
and a seventh appearing three forms from his own, the master, who
seldom stood it so long, could stand it no longer. The _tag_ was
thrown, and a _licking_ followed, making matters a little better from
the master's point of view.
Now I will try to give, from the scholars' side, a peep of what passed.
As soon as he was fairly seated, Alec said in a low voice across the
double desk to one of the boys opposite, calling him by his nickname,
"I say, Divot, do ye ken Juno?"
"Maybe no!" answered Divot.


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