‘What but gaeing efter this new commission they hae promised me? There’s aye a guid chance o’ fechtin upo’ the borders—the frontiers, as they ca’ them!’
Kirsty sat silent. She had been thinking much of what Francis ought to do, and had changed her mind on the point since the time when she talked about him with sir Haco.
‘Isna that what ye wud hae me du, Kirsty?’ he said, when he found she continued silent. ‘A body’s no a fule for wantin guid advice!’
‘No, that’s true eneuch!—What for wad ye want to gang fechtin?’
‘To shaw the warl’ I’m nane o’ what my mither ca’d me.’
‘And shawn that, hoo muckle the better man wud ye be for ’t? Min’ ye it’s ae thing to be, and anither to shaw. Be ye maun; shaw ye needna.’
‘I dinna ken; I micht be growin better a’ the time!’
‘And ye micht be growin waur.—What the better wud ony neebour be for ye gane fechtin? Wudna it be a’ for yersel? Is there naething gien intil yer han’ to du—naething nearer hame nor that? Surely o’ twa things, ane near and ane far, the near comes first!’
‘I dinna ken. I thoucht ye wantit me to gang!’
‘Ay, raither nor bide at hame duin naething; but michtna there be something better to du?’