J. J. Bell

“ Mr. Ogilvy continued. "They'll no' hurt him. He's ower weel in wi' the folk here nooadays."
"I wudna be ower shair o' that. Whit aboot a' the new hooses that's gaun to be builded?"
"I didna think o' that," he admitted, slowly. "Na; I didna think o' that. The jiner-work there 'll be a fine big job. I wudna like to see it gaun by David.... D'ye think he's heard aboot the opposeetion, as it were, Mistress Wallace?"
"Na; he hasna heard yet. Him an' Jess gaed aff the day as blithe an' brisk as bees, like a pair o' young yins—jist like a lad an' lass afore they're mairrit." ”

“ Wallace fiercely demanded.
"Aw, it's jist a peety it wasna a laddie. If it had been a laddie it micht grow intil a man—a dacent man like its fayther."
"If she grows intil a dacent wumman like her mither, she'll dae fine!"
"If!"
"Whit d'ye mean, Angus?"
"Jist what I say."
"D'ye mean she'll no' grow up?"
"Och, she'll grow up, if she doesna get suffocatit."
"Tah!... When I want yer advice I'll ask ye fur it."
"I hope ye'll no' come askin' when it's ower late," he retorted. "Hooever, there's aye a chance o' yer niece bringin' up the wean in spite o' ye. We maun hope for the best." ”

“ It's no' often I canna tell a man whit I think, but—"
"'Deed, that's truth!" said Mr. Ogilvy, quite involuntarily.
"But," she continued, ignoring the remark, "if I wis tellin' David, he wud be that pit aboot that I doot he wud speak to Jess, an' maybe frichten her an' mak' her waur nor she is."
"I see, I see, "he said, sympathetically. "Weel, Mistress Wallace, I'll speak to David aboot the new jiners the nicht, an' I'll drap a hint for him no' to mention onythin' to Mistress Houston in the mean time. ”

“ At least, that's the wey it sud be."
"Ay; but that's jist theory, if ye'll excuse me for sayin' it, Mistress Wallace."
"I'll excuse ye, fur I ken ye canna help bein' a blether, Maister Ogilvy. I never met a man yet that didna gas aboot theories when he hadna the sense or the spunk to practise whit he kent in his hert wis the richt thing to dae."
"Ye're vera severe on man," said Mr. Ogilvy, mopping his brow. "Man is but mortal," he added, in dignified apology. ”

“ Yer no' vera quick at the up-tak', Maister Ogilvy."
"Maybe I'm no'," he admitted. "An' I wisht I kent the meanin' o' the hale business. It's a mystery to me. What did the contractor mean in writin' to tell David that he needna bother tryin' for the job, as it had a' been arranged wi' the new jiners. There's some thin' gey queer aboot it. I wunner wha's buildin' the hooses. It's naebody in Kinlochan, or I wud ha'e heard lang syne. It wasna fair, no' gi'ein' David his chance. There's naebody can touch him for guid work." ”

“ In practice, as it is. Theory's a' richt efter a man's deid. Ye dinna buy a man wi' wages: ye buy his wark; he disna sell hissel' to his wife an' weans: he lends hissel' as lang as he has the richt an' micht to dae it. ”

“ There's the man that aye pits his business afore his wife an' weans, an' there's the man that aye pits his wife an' weans afore his business. I've never seen a man yet that kent hoo to divide hissel'. ”