‘No sae aften, doobtless, as I oucht. But I’m ready to hear ye tell me my duty; I’m no past reasonin wi’!’
‘Did ye never hear ’at ye’re to lo’e yer neebour as yersel?’
‘I’m duin that wi’ a’ my hert, Kirsty—and that ye ken as weel as I du mysel!’
‘Ye mean me, Francie! And ye ca’ that lo’in me, to wull me merry a man ’at’s no a man ava! But it’s nae me ’at’s yer neebour, Francie!’
‘Wha is my neebour, Kirsty?’
‘The queston’s been speirt afore—and answert.’
‘And what’s the answer til’t?’
‘’At yer neebour’s jist whaever lies neist ye i’ need o’ yer help. Gien ye read the tale o’ the guid Sameritan wi’ ony sort o’ gumption, that’s what ye’ll read intil ’t and noucht else. The man or wuman ye can help, ye hae to be neebour til.’
‘I want to help you.’
‘Ye canna help me. I’m in no need o’ yer help. And the queston’s no whar’s the man I micht help, but whaur’s the man I maun help. I wantit to be your neebour, but I cudna win at ye for the thieves; ye wad stick to them, and they wudna lat me du naething.’