"I'm gaein to my uncle and aunt—auld John Peterson and his wife.
They're gey and frail noo, and they want somebody to luik efter them."
"Than ye're weel provided for; Praise be thankit! Marget."
"Ow, ay; nae doot," replied Marget, with bitterness, of which Bruce took no notice.
"And what's to come o' the bairnie?" pursued he.
"I maun jist get some dacent auld body i' the toon to tak' her in, and lat her gang to the schuil. It's time. The auld fowk wadna pit up wi' her a week."
"And what'll that cost ye, Marget?"
"I dinna ken. But the lassie's able to pay for her ain upbringin'."
"It's no far 'at a hunner and fifty'll gang i' thae times, woman. An' it's a pity to tak frae the prencipal. She'll be merryin' some day."
"Ow, 'deed, maybe. Bairns will be fules."
"Weel, end na ye pit it oot at five per cent., and there wad aye be something comin' o' 't? That wad be seven pun' ten i' the year, an' the bairnie micht amaist—no freely but nigh-han'—be broucht up upo' that."