You're surely hellish keen to
hae news. Dis a' your customers get the Catechism when they come in
here?" he queried. "If they do, I may as well tell you to begin with,
that I came in for whusky, an' no' to staun' an examination."
She saw at once that he resented her leisurely way and her attempt at
affability, and she hastened to apologize.
"Look dam'd sharp," he growled, as she attended to his order. "I want
whusky and plenty o' it."
"You are in an unco' hurry," she replied, getting nettled, as she filled
a glass. "It doesna' do to be so snottery as a' that."
"Well, dammit, look alive. I'm dying for a drink. Bring in a bottle," as
she placed a glass before him filled with whisky, "an' tak' the price o'
your dam'd poison aff that!" and he flung down a sovereign upon the
table.
"Look here," said the landlady, "I'll tak' nane o' your snash, so mind
that. If folk come in here to be served, they've got to be ceevil."
"Oh, there's nae harm," he said apologetically, with a forced laugh,
"but I'm in a hurry, and I want a drink."
"Weel, I maun hae ceevility. So if you don't gi'e the yin, you'll no'
get the ither."
"That's all right," he said.
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