This home-thrust prevented any questioning about the second clause of her answer. And Thomas dearly loved plain dealing.
"Ye hae me there, lassie. Na, I cudna lat it alane. An' I never did lat it alane. I plaguit the Lord nicht an' day till he loot me ken."
"I tried hard last nicht," said Annie, "but the rottans war ower mony for me."
"Sawtan has mony wiles," said the mason reflectively.
"Do ye think they warna rottans?' asked Annie.
"Ow! nae doot. I daursay."
"'Cause, gin I thocht they war only deils, I wadna care a buckie (periwinkle) for them."
"It's muckle the same what ye ca' them, gin they ca you frae the throne o' grace, lassie."
"What am I to do than, Thomas?"
"Ye maun haud at it, lassie, jist as the poor widow did wi' the unjust judge. An' gin the Lord hears ye, ye'll ken ye're ane o' the elec', for it's only his own elec' that the Lord dis hear. Eh! lassie, little ye ken aboot prayin' an' no faintin'."