human
Sair Andrew's a harrd mon--a dour, harrd mon is Sair Andrew, he said in a low, harsh voice, and with a wrinkling of face muscles which spoke volumes.
gpt
I wudner cross his path unless I could help it. Harrd, sair, harrd as nails. And wi' a grrasp on him for every penny!
human
Oho! said Cleek in two different tones.
gpt
Mean, is he?
human
Mean wi' ye call it? Mean? There's no worrd ter expraiss what Sair Andrew is at all. Not in the language, sair. But he's got a fine bailiff ter manage th' land, and 'tis wi' him the people deal. Not wi' Sair Andrew. Mistair Tavish, now--he's a fine chap, wi' a greeat hearrt an' a helpin' hand for aiverybody. Mistair Tavish, now, he's a gentleman, sair. Not a block er grranite, like th' old landlorrd!