Christie. “Ay, lad! Flucker, hide, an' when I play my hand sae, ye'll run in an cry, 'Cirsty, the Irishman will gie ye twenty-two schellin the cran.'”
Flucker. “Ye ken mair than's in the catecheesm, for as releegious as ye are.”
The Leith merchant was Mr. Miller, and this is the way he worked.
Miller (in a mellifluous voice). “Are ye no fatigued, my deear?”
Christie (affecting fatigue). “Indeed, sir, and I am.”
Miller. “Shall I have the pleasure to deal wi' ye?”
Christie. “If it's your pleasure, sir. I'm seekin' twenty-five schellin.”
Miller (pretending not to hear). “As you are a beginner, I must offer fair; twenty schellin you shall have, and that's three shillings above Dunbar.”
Christie. “Wad ye even carted herrin with my fish caller fra' the sea? and Dunbar—oh, fine! ye ken there's nae herrin at Dunbar the morn; this is the Dunbar schule that slipped westward. I'm the matirket, ye'll hae to buy o' me or gang to your bed” (here she signaled to Flucker). “I'll no be oot o' mine lang.”
Enter Flucker hastily, crying: “Cirsty, the Irishman will gie ye twenty-two schellin.”