“Ah, weel, try anither; go pull a stock.”
“Oh, nay, I’m afraid to go out in the field at night,” she replied timidly, drawing back. “But I’ll go if ye’ll come wi’ me.” She held out her hand to him.
“Nay, thank ye, Mary,” he said grimly. “I dinna’ care to see the face o’ my future wife just yet; I fear I couldna’ stand the shock.”
“Well, I darena’ go alone,” answered Mary decidedly, her hand on the latch. “Think of anither charm, one I can do indoors.”
“An’ do ye think the fairies will come around where ’tis light?” he cried in amazement. “Och, no, ye must go to the darkest place ye can find.” His little round eyes gazed into hers with solemn earnestness.
Mary shivered with apprehension and peered into the darkness. “Oh, Souter, think o’ the witches,” she said nervously.
“They willna’ hurt ye,” he answered a little impatiently. “Ye maun sow a handful of hempseed an’ harrow it o’er wi’ anything ye can draw after ye, an’ repeat o’er and o’er,” assuming a guttural monotone:
“Hempseed, I sow thee; hempseed, I sow thee,
And him that is to be my true love,
Come after me and draw thee.”