‘I dinna ken. I thoucht to please ye, Kirsty, but it seems naething wull!’
‘Ay; that’s whaur the mischief lies: ye thoucht to please me!’
‘I did think to please you, Kirsty! I thoucht, ance dune weel afore the warl as my father did, I micht hae the face to come hame to you, and say—“Kirsty, wull ye hae me?”’
‘Aye the same auld Francie!’ said Kirsty, with a deep sigh.
‘Weel?’
‘I tell ye, Francie, i’ the name o’ God, I’ll never hae ye on nae sic terms!—Suppose I was to merry somebody whan ye was awa pruvin to yersel, and a’ the lave ’at never misdoobted ye, ’at ye was a brave man—what wud ye du whan ye cam hame?’
‘Naething o’ mortal guid! Tak to the drink, maybe.’
‘Ye tell me that! and ye think, wi’ my een open to ken ’at ye say true, I wud merry ye?—a man like you! Eh, Francie, Francie! ye’re no worth my takin, and ye’re no like to be worth the takin o’ ony honest wuman!—Can ye possibly imegine a wuman merryin a man ’at she kenned wud drive her to coontless petitions to be hauden ohn despisit him? Ye mak my hert unco sair, Francie! I hae dune my best wi’ ye, and the en’ o’ ’t is, ’at ye’re no worth naething!’
‘For the life o’ me, Kirsty, I dinna ken what ye’re drivin at, or what ye wud hae o’ me! I canna but think ye’re usin me as ye wudna like to be used yersel!’
‘’Deed I wud not like it gien I was o’ your breed, Francie! Man, did ye never ance i’ yer life think what ye hed to du—what was gien ye to du—what it was yer duty to du?’