If Measter Cholmley talked to me i' that fashion, he'd look long for another vote frae me.

I can make out King George, and Measter Pitt, and yo' and me, but nation! nation, go hang!' Philip, who sometimes pursued an argument longer than was politic for himself, especially when he felt sure of being on the conquering side, did not see that Daniel Robson was passing out of the indifference of conscious wisdom into that state of anger which ensues when a question becomes personal in some unspoken way.

Robson had contested this subject once or twice before, and had the remembrance of former disputes to add to his present vehemence.

So it was well for the harmony of the evening that Bell and Sylvia returned from the kitchen to sit in the house-place.

They had been to wash up the pans and basins used for supper; Sylvia had privately shown off her cloak, and got over her mother's shake of the head at its colour with a coaxing kiss, at the end of which her mother had adjusted her cap with a 'There! there! ha' done wi' thee,' but had no more heart to show her disapprobation; and now they came back to their usual occupations until it should please their visitor to go; then they would rake the fire and be off to bed; for neither Sylvia's spinning nor Bell's knitting was worth candle-light, and morning hours are precious in a dairy.
People speak of the way in which harp-playing sets off a graceful figure; spinning is almost as becoming an employment.