J. J. Bell

“ I answers boldly, though I wasna feelin' extra bold.
He drapped the barrow, and stood and looked at me.
"What's wrang wi' ye?" says I.
"Hoo auld are ye?" says he.
"That's nane o' your business."
"Sixteen?"
"I'll soon be three and twenty."
Without a word he started pushin' the barrow again. He seemed to be offended.
"Never mind ma age," I says. "What sort o' place is it at 'Seaview?"
"I'm sorry for ye, if ye're really gaun to service there," he says.
"What's wrang wi' it?"
"Servants never bide. Maybe because it's that dull." ”

“ I exclaims, "what's wrang wi' him?"
"And at the station," he says, without stoppin', "there's a porter called John Craw—beware o' him! And the chap that drives the baker's van——"
"Goodness gracious! Are they a' bad?"
"Rotten! Ye'd best beware o' a' the men in this neighbourhood," he says. "When ye've settled on your nights oot, I'll be glad to show ye the local scenery and so forth. I'm free after 6 p.m. Every night for the next week or so, I'll look oot for ye on this road—eh, Jemima?" ”

“ I says, generouslike, "and it's never ower late to mend, and ye'll maybe be wealthy someday."
Of course I didna really mean that she had ever been a bad sister, but then neither did she; folk'll say onything when a weddin's on.
I'm no' gaun to describe the weddin', paper bein' that dear, nor hoo I had to slope for the station afore the feast was entirely shifted. I'll merely mention that there wasna a dry hanky in the room, the gents bein' so galliant as to lend theirs to the ladies, after the latter's was soaked. ”