The farmer and his wife

AS you know, Anne and I are early bedders, but there is one night in the year Anne insists we stay up till midnight. That, as you can guess, is New Year’s Eve. On the stroke of midnight Anne pours out

MY Anne is an economical sort. She doesn’t believe in wasting time or petrol running in and out of St Andrews or Anstruther for a pickle of things. Bread comes under this title. We usually eat one lar

The tale of Mr Dear’s unfortunate pyjamas

WHAT was the man thinking of when he did his shopping? Jessie thought. Two huge, brown paper parcels spilled food on to the kitchen table. Enough to feed a family for a fortnight at least. Slices of t

WOULD you look at the man!” Maggie said. She wasn’t much to look at herself, being as black as sin from the coal dust. She’d just finished a shift at the colliery screens, picking lumps of coal out of

DO you think Ellen would enjoy living here?” Scott asked his wife dubiously. “I don’t know. But we have to make the offer,” Hannah replied. Ellen, Scott’s older sister, was a sharp-tongued woman, quic