"Pointing was as bad as speaking," I said.
"If it was," said Annie tensely, "Jean never washes her neck. So there!"
They departed, and in half-an-hour the enemy came up. They sat in the bothy in silence for a time.
"Well," I said cheerily, "what's the news to-night?"
"We're fechtin'," said Gladys, "fechtin' wi' Annie and Janet."
"What's it all about, eh?"
"The Mester gar me write doon the names o' them that was speakin'," blurted out Jean, "and Aw put doon their names."
"Yes," chimed in Ellen, "and syne they ca'ed Jean a tramp, and said that the Mester gae her the job o' writin' doon the names cos she was sic a bad writer and needed practice."
"Aye," said Gladys, "and they telt me my mither got my pink frock dyed black when my faither deed."