I'll hae some leiser than.' Before he had finished speaking he had caught up his awl and begun to work vigorously, boring his holes as if the nerves of feeling were continued to the point of the tool, inserting the bristles that served him for needles with a delicacy worthy of soft-skinned fingers, drawing through the rosined threads with a whisk, and untwining them with a crack from the leather that guarded his hands.
'Gude nicht to ye,' said Robert, with the fiddle-case under his arm.
The shoemaker looked up, with his hands bound in his threads.
'Ye're no gaein' to tak her frae me the nicht ?' 'Ay am I, but I'll fess her back again.

I'm no gaein' to Jericho wi' her.' 'Gang to Hecklebirnie wi' her, and that's three mile ayont hell.' 'Na; we maun win farther nor that.

There canna, be muckle fiddlin' there.' 'Weel, tak her to the new Jeroozlem.

I s' gang doon to Lucky Leary's, and fill mysel' roarin' fou, an' it'll be a' your wyte (blame).' 'I doobt ye'll get the straiks (blows) though.

Or maybe ye think Bell 'ill tak them for ye.' Dooble Sanny caught up a huge boot, the sole of which was filled with broad-headed nails as thick as they could be driven, and, in a rage, threw it at Robert as he darted out.