The verra cupples'll be rottit awa' or lang." "Weel that's verra rizzonable, nae doobt, gin a' be as ye say." "Be as I say, Robert Bruce ?" "Ay, ay; ye see ye're nae a'thegither like ither fowk.

I dinna mean ony offence, ye ken, Tibbie; but ye haena the sicht o' yer een." "Maybe I haena the feelin' o' my auld banes, aither, Maister Bruce! Maybe I'm ower blin' to hae the rheumatize; or to smell the auld weet thack whan there's been a scatterin' o' snaw or a drappy o' rain o' the riggin'!" "I didna want to anger ye, Tibbie.

A' that ye say deserves attention.
It would be a shame to lat an auld body like you--" "No that auld, Maister Bruce, gin ye kent the trowth!" "Weel, ye're no ower young to need to be ta'en guid care o'-- are ye, Tibbie ?" Tibbie grunted.
"Weel, to come to the pint.

There's nae doobt the hoose wants a hantle o' doctorin'." "'Deed does't," interposed Tibbie.

"It'll want a new door.