Talking is hungry wark.

I think a man might find easier pleasuring than going to a kirk session through a snowstorm." "A man might, Jenny.

They'd suit women-folk wonderfu'; there's plenty o' talk and little wark." "Then I dinna see ony call to mak a change, deacon." "Now, Jenny, you've had the last word, sae ye can go to bed wi' an easy mind.

And, Jenny, woman, dinna let your quarrel wi' Maggie Launder come between you and honest sleep.

I think that will settle her," he observed with a pawky smile, as his housekeeper shut the door with unnecessary haste.
Half an hour afterwards, David, mixing another glass of toddy, drew his chair closer to the fire, and said, "Uncle John, I want to speak to you." "Speak on, laddie;" but David noticed that even with the permission, cautious curves settled round his uncle's eyes, and his face assumed that business-like immobility which defied his scrutiny.
"I have had a very serious talk with Robert Leslie; he is thinking of buying Alexander Hastie out." "Why not think o' buying out Robert Napier, or Gavin Campbell, or Clydeside Woolen Works?
A body might as weel think o' a thousand spindles as think o' fifty." "But he means business.