“I telled ye she would never tell upo me!—Hed she ony siller?”
“Hoo can I tell?”
“Did ye pey her ony wages?”
“She gae me no time!—But she’s no likly to tell noo; for, hearin her tale, wha wad tak her in?”
“Eh, mother, but ye are hard-hertit!”
“I ken a harder, Jamie!”
“That’s me!—and ye’re richt, mother! But, eh, gien ye wad hae me loe ye frae this meenut to the end o’ my days, be but a wee fair to Isy: I hae been a damnt scoon’rel til her!”
“Jamie; Jamie! ye’re provokin the Lord to anger—sweirin like that in his vera face—and you a minister!”
“I provokit him a heap waur whan I left Isy to dree her shame! Divna ye min’ hoo the apostle Peter cursed, whan he said to Simon, ‘Gang to hell wi’ yer siller!’”
“She’s telt the soutar, onygait!”