J. J. Bell

“ He's jist like a paurrit fur pickin' up words."
"Dod, ay!" said John, seriously, "I'll ha'e to be carefu', Lizzie."
"Ye're an awfu' man," said his wife, frowning and smiling.
"Wull I get a tert at Aunt Purdie's?" inquired Macgregor.
"Ye'll see whit ye'll get when ye get it," replied his mother. "An' mind, Macgreegor, ye're no' to be askin' fur jeely till ye've ett twa bits o' breed-an'-butter. It's no' mainners; an' yer Aunt Purdie's rale parteeclar. An' yer no' to dicht yer mooth wi' yer cuff—mind that. Ye're to tak' yer hanky an' let on ye're jist gi'ein' yer nib a bit wipe. ”

“ By a strange mischance he had already dropped two pieces of plain bread-and-butter on the floor, but to his credit it must be recorded that he had remembered his mother's injunction not to attempt to recover them.
"Ay, Macgreegor's the yin fur surees," said John. "He cam' hame frae the Sawbath-schule suree the ither nicht wi' fower orangers an' guid kens hoo mony pokes o' sweeties."
"An' he had to get ile i' the mornin'," said Lizzie, whose time was chiefly occupied in feeding wee Jeannie.
"Do you like oil?" said Mrs. Purdie, smiling sourly at Macgregor. ”

“ An' if ye drap yer piece on the floor, ye're no' to gang efter it; ye're jist to let on ye've ett it. An' ye're no'——"
"Deed, Lizzie," interposed her husband, "ye're the yin to think aboot things!"
"Wed, John, if I dinna tell Macgreegor hoo to behave hissel', he'll affront me. It's maybe a sma' maitter to a man, John, but a wumman disna like to be pit oot afore her guid sister. An', John, ye're to try an' be discreet yersel', an' think afore ye mak' a bit joke, fur she's a rale genteel wumman, an' awfu' easy offendit." ”