‘God forbid!’ exclaimed her father with solemnity, after a short pause.
‘I’m thinkin God’s forbidden langsyne!’ rejoined Kirsty.
‘What said ye til ’im, lassie?’
‘First I leuch at him—as weel as I can min’ the nonsense o’ ’t—and ca’d him the gowk he was; and syne I sent him awa wi’ a flee in ’s lug: hadna he the impidence to fa’ oot upo’ me for carin mair aboot Steenie nor the likes o’ him! As gien ever he cud come ’ithin sicht o’ Steenie!’
Her father looked very grave.
‘Are ye no pleased, father? I did what I thoucht richt.’
‘Ye cudna hae dune better, Kirsty. But I’m sorry for the callan, for eh but I loed his father! Lassie, for his father’s sake I cud tak Francie intil the hoose, and work for him as for you and Steenie—though it’s little guid Steenie ever gets o’ me, puir sowl!’
‘Dinna say that, father. It wud be an ill thing for Steenie to hae onybody but yersel to the father o’ ’im! A muckle pairt o’ the nicht he wins ower in loein at you and his mother.’
‘And yersel, Kirsty.’
‘I’m thinkin I hae my share i’ the daytime.’