Cushag

“ Mrs. Gale: Aw, tejus scandalous. My word, there’s no ress at us night or day. Himself walkin’ the flure with him all night. I don’t know what’s doin’ on him.
Hommy [looking down wisely through his spectacles at cradle] : He’s lookin’ middlin’ wickad too. [Child yells.]
Mrs. Gale [angrily] : Don’t be sayin’ such things an’ him in pain, perhaps, poor lil sowl. There’s something must be hurtin’ him to make him so cross. An’ not able to put a foot to the ground yet.
Hommy: Aw, indade! They’re sayin’ it’s very backward he is.
Mrs. Gale: He is that–but he’s cuttin’ his teeth fine, for all. ”

“ Mrs. F.: Well enough, well enough, thank you, an’ I’m not mindin’ the coul an’ I’m not mindin’ the heat, for when we’re wonderin’ in the mornin’–will he come this everin’–an’ in th’ everin’–will he come in th’ mornin’–the days is much alike. Are you ready, Lizzie veen?
Lizzie: Aw, sit a lil while Mrs. Fayle, dear. Sure Kirry here is tired, for she’s had a long thramp from Lherghy Rennie over. Stop an’ take ress for a bit now, an’ then we’ll take her a piece of the road home on our way to meet Jem.
Kirry [hastily] : Never mind me at all. I’ll do all right an’ wait here by the fire a bit. ”

“ Kirry [looking warningly at Bobby] : It will be the cat, it’s like, that’s been doin’ havock on the table.
Lizzie: But there’s no cat in now–not since poor pussy-bogh was stole.
Kirry: There’s plenty strange cats goin’ roun’ on the houses though at this time of year.
Bobby: Deed Lizzie an’ I saw a cat in this very house–an’ a fine big wan she was too–an’ long claws on her–
Kirry: Is that Bobby’s Daa callin’? [Listening at door and shaking her fist at him behind Lizzie’s back.] You’ll catch it, Bobby, if you don’t run.
Bobby [going slowly] : Cats is middlin’ inquisitive, too. ”

“ Kirry: Well, you see the soddag valloo is a surt of a bonag they’re makin’ at Hollantide of flour an’ wather, an’ it’s goin’ a bakin’ on the hearth. Then each of the girls must take a piece an’ eat it walkin’ backwards to her bed, navver sayin’ wan word.
Watterson: What then, Kirry?
Kirry: Kirry sounds pretty, the saf’ way you say it; but still an’ for all I don’t know that you have any right to be callin’ it to me.
Watterson: Right enough, Kirry; an’ us such near neighbours. Dear me the time we have together is far too short to be going all the length of “Miss Cregeen” all the time. ”

“ Go on now an’ toll him quickly for [to Lizzie] there’ll be a power of people on the road to-night, an’ some of these wans is so boul they would be askin’ him to give them a lif’ whether he would or no.
Lizzie: Go on now, Bobby, an’ here’s a penny for you.
Bobby: Thank you, Lizzie; you’ve always got a kind word for a poor man–
Kirry: Man!
Bobby: Or a pussy cat [going as Kirry pretends to chase him.] Poor pussy-bogh! Miaow! [Exit.]
Kirry: Now, Lizzie, what was I tell in’ you? M. indeed! No indeed. W. is a far more stylisher latther. Is my skirt right, Lizzie? ”

“ Let’s have a look. [Bends over cradle. Child turns over and flings his fist in Hommy’s face.] Ogh, murther! Is that the way he’s sleepin’. I’ll have to put a rale charm on him for all.
Mrs. Gale returns with turves in her apron. Hommy takes them from her and packs them on fire. Mrs. Gale watches uneasily. Hommy takes the bellows.
Hommy: Now sit you down there with your back to him, an’ take you that waistcut an’ stitch for your life. An’ whatever you do don’t look round or you’ll be murthered with fright.
Hommy blows turves. Child rises up, wringing his hands and begins to wail and roar ”

“ They’re like moths fir their clothes. But these wans is well off an’ no need to be wearin’ such oul duds.
Slowly begins to sew, humming a tune.
Child [sitting up suddenly] : Drop that, Hommy Beg!
Hommy [starts with surprise and then looks over spectacles quite scandalized] : Well, if ever–
Child: Drop it now. [Jumps out of cradle scattering shawls and wraps, Hommy gazing open-mouthed.] Smart now, Hommy–clear this place quick. [Picks up besom and pokes Hommy, finally chasing him into corner, and picking up fiddle in its green bag thrusts it at him.] ”

“ Not much fear–for what with the cows an’ the children, and the goats and the hens and the meg-lambs, I never get the chance for a word. Well, now, that I came to ask was, would you drive home with me this evening? ”

“ I’ll tell your Daa as sure’s you’re livin’. What do you want comin’ in other people’s houses when they're out and terrifying the people!
Bobby: What do you want, Kirry Cregeen–oomin’ in other people’s houses when they’re out,–an’ eatin’ other people’s cakes? ”

“ The chile mus’ have strayed down here and lost herself. She was lyin’ by the big fir logs out theer sobbin’ mos’ pirriful, an’ the snow fallin’ on her too. It’s snowin’ bad now.
Gr.: An’ they’ll be in a worl’ of throuble up theer when they miss her. How can we let them know at all?
M.: They’ll surely be searching everywhere, but with the snow they’ll be hindered shocking. We mus’ keep her to-night anyway, an’ we’ll have the pudding for her supper that she’ll get warmth in her–
Maggie: Oh, Mammie, that’s the for the five raisins was in. ”

“ The chile an’ his hatchet! Well there’s them over beyond that’s worse off nor us. We’ve got a roof over our heads an’ plenty bons in. Think of them wans thramp, thrampin’ through the mud an’ dark from their burning houses, an’ the childher cryin’, it’s like–why ain’t we goin’ home, Mammie?–an’–We want to go to bed now, Mammie–an’ never a home or a bed lef’ them.
[Children return clean and shiny] : What will the pudding be like, Mammie? ”

“ M.: What quare thing is there on you? It’s jus’ the snow an’ the light of the stars is makin’ things through others.
Jim: It’s makin’ a quare surt of noise, too.
M.: What like is the noise?
Jim: I don’t know is it cryin’ or sobbin’ or weenin’ some way it is.
Gr.: Praps some wan’s dog has got hurted.
M.: I’d bes’ go an’ see anyway. Here, Maggie, you come with me and houl the lanthern–you’re not afeard like Jim.
Jim [angrily] : I’m not feared, an’ I’m th’oul’es’. Maggie can mind the pudding. ”

“ Go on now an’ get washed or I’ll warm you. [Exit children to back-kitchen, pumping and splashing.] Deed if this war goes on there’ll not be dhry bread in for poor people, let alone puddings an’ hatchets. ”