She'll be that meek as gien she thoucht naething at a' o' hersel', an' the next moment be angert at a word.

She canna bide a syllable said 'at 's no correc' to the verra hair.

It's as gien she dreidit waur 'ahint it, an' wud mairch straucht to the defence.

I'm no makin' my meanin' that clear, I doobt; but ye'll ken 't for a' that!" "I think I do," said Donal.

"-- I see nothing of her." "I wudna mak a won'er o' that, sir! She may weel haud oot o' your gait, feelin' rebukit 'afore ane 'at kens a' aboot her gaein's on wi' my lord!" "I don't know how I should see her, though!" returned Donal.
"Didna she sweep oot the schoolroom first whan ye gaed, sir ?" "When I think of it--yes." "Does she still that same ?" "I do not know.