"Weel, he'll no' be muckle troubled wi' them whaur he's gone, puir man.

The Bible says, Not many great, not many noble." "D'you think," said Mhor in a pleasantly interested voice, "that Mr.
M'Cosh is in heaven ?" (Mhor never let slip an opportunity for theological discussions.) "I wouldn't care much to go to heaven myself, for all my friends are in"-- he stopped and cast a cautious glance at Jean, and, judging by her expression that discretion was the better part of valour, and in spite of an encouraging twinkle in the eyes of Jock, finished demurely--"the Other Place." "Haw, haw," laughed Jock, who was consistently amused by Mhor and his antics.

"I'm sorry for your friends, old chap.

Do I know them ?" "Well," said Mhor, "there's Napoleon and Dick Turpin and Graham of Claverhouse and Prince Charlie and----" "Mhor--you're talking too much," said David, who was jotting down figures in a notebook.
"It's to be hoped," said Jean to Mrs.M'Cosh, "that the honourable lady will suit Bella Bathgate, for Bella, honest woman, won't put herself about to suit anybody.

But she's been a good neighbour to us.