"Business is just business, an' my son diz nae business on the Lord's Day." There was no place for casuistry in the old Scotch lady's mind.

A thing was or was not, and there was an end to that.
"Certainly, Mrs.McNish, certainly! And so sez I.But there might be a slight difference of (h)opinion between you and I, so to speak, as to just w'at may constitute 'business.' Now, for (h)instance--" Mr.
Wigglesworth was warming to his subject, but the old lady standing on her doorstep fixed her keen blue eyes upon him and ruthlessly swept away all argumentation on the matter.
"If it is a matter consistent with the Lord's Day, come in; if not, stay oot." "Oh! Yes, thank you.

By the way, is your son in, by (h)any chance?
Per'raps 'e's shavin' 'isself, eh ?" Mr.Wigglesworth indulged in a nervous giggle.
"Shavin' himsel!" exclaimed Mrs.McNish.

"On the Sawbath! Man, d'ye think he's a heathen, then ?" Mrs.McNish regarded the man before her with severity.
"An 'eathen?
Not me! I should consider it an 'eathenish practice to go dirty of a Sunday," said Mr.Wigglesworth triumphantly.
"Hoots, man, wha's talkin' about gaein' dirty?
Can ye no mak due preparation on the Saturday?
What is yere Saturday for ?" This was a new view to Mr.Wigglesworth and rather abashed him.
"What is it, Mother ?" Malcolm's voice indicated a desire to appease the wrath that gleamed in his mother's eye.

"Oh, it is Mr.Wigglesworth.
Yes, yes! I want to see Mr.Wigglesworth.Will you come in, Mr.
Wigglesworth ?" "Malcolm, A was jist tellin' Mr.Wigglesworth--" "Yes, yes, I know, Mother, but I want--" "Malcolm, ye ken what day it is.