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So he did, Nurse; ye 're a sensible woman, but somewhat o' the loudest, whan ye 're angry. Thae gude folks want some refection, I trow; and there's gude yill and ham in the buttery.—Come, Sirs, follow me. Whaur can Black Bauldy be a' this while? His smooty face is seldom missing whan ony mischief is ganging on?

What do you want with him?

To send him owre the craft for the new-laid eggs, that the ploughman's wife promised us.

He has been sent further off on another errand already.

And wha sent him, I should like to ken, whan we are a' sae thrang?

My lady sent him.