I aye likit the boy weel.

From this day all is changit; Oscar shall hae neither plack nor bawbee of mine; all goes to my wife's nephew, Stanley Mitchell, as is set down in due form in the bit testament that is waiting without; bating only some few sma' bequests for old kindness.

It is but loath I am to poison our mirth with the name of the man Oscar; the deil will hae him to be brandered; he is fast grippit, except he be cast out as an orra-piece, like the smith in the Norroway tale.

When ye are come to your own land, Mr.Johnson, ye will find that brockle-faced stot there afore you; and I trust ye will comb him weel.
Heckle him finely, and spare not; but ere ye have done wi' him, for my sake drop a word in his lug to come nae mair to Vesper.

When all's said, the man is of my wife's blood and bears her name; I would not have that name publicly disgracit.