"Gien God thoucht the Cam'ells worth makin', daddy, I dinna see 'at I hae ony richt to compleen 'at I cam' o' them."
"She hopes you'll pe forgifing ta plind old man, however. She couldn't see, or she would haf known at once petter."
"I dinna ken what ye're efter noo, daddy," said Malcolm.
"That she'll do you a creat wrong, and she'll be ferry sorry for it, my son."
"What wrang did ye ever du me, daddy?"
"That she was let you crow up a Cam'ell, my poy. If she tid put know ta paad blood was pe in you, she wouldn't pe tone you ta wrong as pring you up."
"That's a wrang no ill to forgi'e, daddy. But it's a pity ye didna lat me lie, for maybe syne Mistress Catanach wad hae broucht me up hersel', an' I micht hae come to something."
"Ta duvil mhor (great) would pe in your heart and prain and poosom, my son."
"Weel, ye see what ye hae saved me frae."
"Yes; put ta duvil will be to pay, for she couldn't safe you from ta Cam'ell plood, my son. Malcolm, my poy," he added after a pause, and with the solemnity of a mighty hate, "ta efil woman herself will pe a Cam'ell—ta woman Catanach will pe a Cam'ell, and her nainsel' she'll not know it pefore she'll be in ta ped with ta worstest Cam'ell tat ever God made; and she pecks his pardon, for she'll not pelieve He wass making ta Cam'ells."