Whan God's hairst is in or lang,
Golden-heidit, ripe, and thrang,
Syne begins a better sang."
She looked up, and Curly was walking through the broad river to where she sat.
"I kent ye a mile aff, Annie," he said.
"I'm glaid to see ye, Curly."
"I wonner gin ye'll be as glaid to see me the neist time, Annie."
Then Annie perceived that Curly looked earnest and anxious.
"What do ye say, Curly?" she returned.
"I hardly ken what I say, Annie, though I ken what I mean. And I dinna ken what I'm gaun to say neist, but they say the trowth will oot. I wiss it wad, ohn a body said it."
"What can be the maitter, Curly?"�-Annie was getting frightened.�-"It maun be ill news, or ye wadna luik like that."
"I doobt it'll be warst news to them that it's nae news till."