‘My feet’s terrible heavy the nicht, Kirsty!’ he said. ‘Gien it wasna for them, the lave o’ me wud be up and awa. It’s terrible to be hauden doon by the feet this gait!’
‘We’re a’ hauden doon the same gait, Steenie. Maybe it’s some waur for you ’at wud sae fain gang up, nor for the lave o’ ’s ’at’s mair willin to bide a wee; but it ’ll be the same at the last whan we’re a’ up there thegither.’
‘I wudna care sae muckle gien he didna grip me by the queets (ankles), like! I dinna like to be grippit by the queets! He winna lat me win at the thongs!’
‘Whan the richt time comes,’ returned Kirsty solemnly, ‘the bonny man ’ll lowse the thongs himsel.’
‘Ay, ay! I ken that weel. It was me ’at tellt ye. He tauld me himsel! I’m thinkin I’ll see him the nicht, for I’m sair hauden doon, sair needin a sicht o’ ’im. He’s whiles lang o’ comin!’
‘I dinna won’er ’at ye’re sae fain to see ’im, Steenie!’
‘I am that; fain, fain!’
‘Ye’ll see ’im or lang. It’s a fine thing to hae patience.’
‘Ye come ilka day, Kirsty: what for sudna he come ilka nicht?’
‘He has reasons, Steenie. He kens best.’