"I am not going to take your
money to pay Mr Bruce."
"He's an awfu' cratur that, mem. He wad tak the win'in' sheet aff o'
the deid."
"Well, I must see what can be done. I'll go and consult Mr Gibb."
James took his leave, dejected on his mistress's account, and on his
own. As he went out, he met Annie.
"Eh, Annie!" he said; "this is awfu'."
"What's the matter, Dooie?"
"That schochlin' (waddling, mean) cratur, Bruce, is mintin'
(threatening) at roupin' the mistress for a wheen siller she's aucht
him."
"He daurna!" exclaimed Annie.
"He'll daur onything but tyne (lose) siller. Eh! lassie, gin we hadna
len' 't him yours!"
"I'll gang till him direcly. But dinna tell the mistress. She wadna
like it."
"Na, na. I s' haud my tongue, I s' warran'.???-Ye're the best cratur ever
was born. She'll maybe perswaud the ill-faured tyke (dog)."
Murmuring the last two sentences to himself, he walked away. When Annie
entered Bruce's shop, the big spider was unoccupied, and ready to
devour her. He put on therefore his most gracious reception.
"Hoo are ye, Miss Anderson? I'm glaid to see ye. Come benn the hoose."
"No, I thank ye. I want to speak to yersel', Mr Bruce.
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