“Ay. She chust happit a planket roond an’ roond her potty, an’ tied it wi’ a bit o’ line to keep it oop, an’ she’s waarm as waarm a’ but her foots an’ han’s!”
“I should think you are,” said Steve merrily. “You’re as big round as a hop pocket. You can hardly move.”
“Oh ay, she can move when she wants to move. Hae ye got any chilplains?”
“No, have you?”
“Cot any chilplains? Why, her han’s an’ foots are chust a’ ane creat chilplain, an’ when she kets wairm they ding an’ itch till she cauld scratch awa’ a’ her skin.”
“I’ll ask Mr Handscombe to give you something for them.”
“Nay, she winna tak’ it. She canna’ tak’ pheesek.”
“Nonsense! I mean to rub on.”
“Oh, mebby she micht try a wee drap ootside.”
“Well, how do you like having the weather so cold as this?”