“What! and you did not tell me? Here, come back to the ship, and let me have a look.”
“Na, na, na; she’ll na gang wi’ ye!” cried Watty.
“But if they are frost-bitten I can perhaps do them good, and save you from a very bad injury. Come along.”
“Na, na; she’ll keep her han’s an’ foots on as lang as she can,” groaned the lad. “She winna let her tooch them.”
“Don’t be absurd!” said the doctor angrily. “Steve, did you know of this?”
“No, sir,” said the boy, fighting hard to conceal his mirth.
“I ought to have been told. Here, come along. Stop!”
“Ay, she’ll stop; she winna gang wi’ ye.”
“Are your feet really bad?”
“Ay, sir; but she shanna tooch them.”