Christie whipped out a well-thumbed almanac.
“Yon nook's aye ahint,” said she. She swept the sea once more with her glass, then brought it together with a click, and jumped off the stool. Her quick intelligence viewed the matter differently from all the others.
“Noow,” cried she, smartly, “wha'll lend me his yawl?”
“Hets! dinna be sae interferin', lassie,” said a fishwife.
“Hae nane o' ye ony spunk?” said Christie, taking no notice of the woman. “Speak, laddies!”
“M' uncle's yawl is at the pier-head; ye'll get her, my woman,” said a boy.
“A schell'n for wha's first on board,” said Christie, holding up the coin.
“Come awa', Flucker, we'll hae her schell'n;” and these two worthies instantly effected a false start.
“It's no under your jackets,” said Christie, as she dashed after them like the wind.
“Haw! haw! haw!” laughed Sandy.