"How are you all getting on ?" And then, with a vague reminiscence of the Scouts' code--"Have you been minding to perform a good deed every day ?" The Chieftain's brow darkened.
"'Good Deeds!'" he repeated bitterly.

"I tell ye I'm fair wore out wi' good deeds.

Yon man Mackintosh tell't me this was going to be a grand holiday.

Holiday! Govey Dick! It's been like a Setterday night in Main Street--a' fechtin', fechtin'." No collocation of letters could reproduce Dougal's accent, and I will not attempt it.

There was a touch of Irish in it, a spice of music-hall patter, as well as the odd lilt of the Glasgow vernacular.
He was strong in vowels, but the consonants, especially the letter "t," were only aspirations.
"Sit down and let's hear about things," said Dickson.
The boy turned his head to the still open back door, where Mrs.Morran could be heard at her labours.