ELDER EEL
AWL. Three
lies in three words, Elder.
Ye'll win the
Bishop's Kettle this year, for sure!
But what is it?
Hae
the Glasgie fowk got wind 0‘ your little affair wi' Bungs?
What d'ye mak’ a year oot 0' that?
EEL. Ye wicked deevil l
AWL. I dinna care.
It's your affair to take the King's
siller, and the whisky man’s gowd
!
But I'm wondering 1100
it gangs wi' sae muckle releegion
!
EEL. Ηοο dare ye?
AWL. Or have they found your ain private still o‘er the
brae?
An exciseman wi' a still 0’ his ainl ha!
1131 ha!
κει. Ye fausse fiend
!
Hae ye gi’en me awa‘?
AWL, Nal
I’m no sae releegious as ye are.
But I doot
it's fowk ken 0‘ your dealin’s wi‘ Jeannie Maekay
!
EEL.
Hoo did ye ken that?
AWL. Why, the lass is in trouble; and you best ken wha‘s
the fault is.
ΕΕΙ͵᾿Ay
! And didna Ι gie her {ower shilling an' saxpence
to get tae Glasgie an’ hide her shame?
An' didna I rebuke
her for the sin at by the reever bank, so that she might hae
found grace to droon hersel‘ ?
AWL. Ay
1 ye're
3 mean,
sneakin’,
coordly,
murderous
dog!
That
1 didna ken, an' I thank ye {or tellin‘ me.
I'm
for ben.
[Ηe spits osteiztafz'ously on the ground andgoes qflR, But
remains visible to audz'eizee as one 645113/?ןעשthe scene.
He wins/[es softly and bee/eons, of]
EEL. Bad! Badl
I maun be fey to hae tellt him that.
But I'll see Jeannie, and gie her twa pund sterling—ma
Ι one
pund fifteen shillin’—nal one pund ten shillin'—an’ get her
VIII
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