‘Weel ye hae that!’ she answered, with a smile that showed her lovely white teeth: ‘Ye’re a’ dubs (_all bemired_)! What for sud ye be in sic a hurry? Ye saw me no three days gane!’
‘Ay, I saw ye, it’s true; but I didna get a word o’ ye!’
‘Ye was free to say what ye likit. There was nane by but my mither!’
‘Wud ye hae me say a’thing afore yer mither jist as I wud til ye yer lane (_alone_)?’ he asked.
‘Ay wud I,’ she returned. ‘Syne she wad ken, ’ithoot my haein to tell her sic a guse as ye was!’
Had he not seen the sunny smile that accompanied her words he might well have taken offence.
‘I wuss ye war anither sic-like!’ he answered simply.
‘Syne there wud be twa o’ ’s!’ she returned, leaving him to interpret.
Silence again fell.
‘Weel, what wud ye hae, Francie?’ said Kirsty at length.