“Hauld your whist, ye old tyke,” flashed Mrs. Burns indignantly. “Robbie Burns doesna’ need ye to tell him how to act wi’ the lassies.”
“I’ll not dispute ye there,” replied Souter dryly, winking his eye at Robert knowingly.
Robert laughed merrily as he answered, “Ye ken we’re both o’er bashful before ye a’.”
“Ah, ye’re a fine pair of lovers, ye are,” retorted Souter disgustedly, turning away.
“So the neighbors say, Souter,” responded Robert gayly, giving Mary a loving little squeeze.
And surely there never was a handsomer couple, thought Mistress Burns proudly, as they stood there together. One so dark, so big and strong, the other so fair, so fragile and winsome. And so thought Gilbert Burns jealously, as he came quietly into the room. Robert went to him quickly, a smile lighting up his dark face, his hand outstretched in greeting.
“I’m o’er glad to see ye again, Gilbert,” he cried impulsively, shaking his brother’s limp hand.
“So ye’ve come back again,” said Gilbert, coldly.
“Aye, like a bad penny,” laughingly responded Robert. “Noo that I am burned out of my situation, I’ve come hame to help ye in the labors of the farm,” and he pressed his brother’s hand warmly.
“I fear your thoughts willna’ lang be on farming,” observed Gilbert sarcastically, going to the fireplace and deliberately turning his back to Robert.