“Just sae! But you mustna fret yoursel’ sick after him.”
“Me! Not likely!”
“He was bonnie enou’, and he had siller—plenty o’ siller!”
“I’m no’ thinkin’ o’ the siller, Feyther! Na, na, siller isn’t in the matter, but—
“When your lover rins over the sea,
He may never come back again;
But this, or that, will na matter to me,
For my heart! My heart is my ain!”
“Then a’s weel, lassie. I’ll just creep into Neil’s bed, for I dinna want to wake your mither for either this, or that, or ony ither thing. Good night, dearie! You’re a brave lassie! God bless you!”