“Yes, I’m not deceiving you. Don’t you believe me?”
“Oh ay, she pelieves pecause she knows she’s a chentleman; and when a chentleman says onything is true she is quite true.”
“Thank you,” said Steve, smiling. “Put if ta sun coes on like tat, an’ she’s squirming oop an’ squirming doon, she’s cot something wrong wi’ her wairks.”
Steve laughed.
“Ay, put it’s naething to lauch aboot, Meester Stevey. Thenk o’ the sun coing quite oot for eighteen weeks. Oh, it’s a waefu’ place. What’ll we do when it’s a’ nicht?”
“Go to sleep like the bears do, and have a good long rest.”
“Go to sleep for eighteen weeks!” cried Watty in horror. “Why, she’d nivver wak’ ony mair!”
“Oh yes, you would; and besides, it will not be quite dark. There’ll be the moon and stars and the aurora.”
“She dinna ken onything apoot the roarer. Will she mak’ it licht?”
“Yes, beautifully.”