“Yes, I see; but what is intill’t?”
The man looked at him, and, seeing that the Prince was serious he replied—
“There’s mutton intill’t, and neeps intill’t, and——”
“Yes, certainly, I know,” still argued the Prince; “but what is intill’t—intill’t?”
“Gudesake, man,” yelled the Scotsman, brandishing his big ladle, “am I no thrang tellin’ ye what’s intill’t? There’s mutton intill’t, and——”
Here the interview was brought to a close by one of the Prince’s suite, who fortunately was passing, explaining to His Royal Highness that “intill’t” simply meant “into it,” and nothing more!
An incident of a somewhat similar nature, and even more humoursome than the above, which was happily paraphrased by the late Robert Leighton, the Scottish poet, under the title of “Scotch Words,” occurred to an English gentlewoman, a number of years ago, in the course of a brief tour “here awa’.” One night she rested at a respectable inn in a country village, and on being shown to her bedroom by the rustic chambermaid, the question was put to her—
“Would you like to have a het crock in your bed this cauld nicht, mem?”
“A what?” asked the lady.
“A pig, mem. Shall I put a pig in your bed to keep you warm?”