“Tie a handkerchief round your neck, and put your feet in warm water.”
“What ye mean, Maister Ken?”
“Get Mother Cumstie to come and hold your hand, for fear you should fall off the rock.”
“What ye talking aboot, sir?”
“Do be careful, Shon; there’s a good man.”
Long Shon stood on the rock, rubbing a great red, yellow-freckled ear; and then scratched one of his brawny cheeks, looking puzzled.
“Shall I send Scoody back, to lead you with a string?”
The distance was getting great now, and the man’s voice sounded faint as he put his hands to his mouth to make a speaking-trumpet.
“She ton’t know what you mean.”
“Ha, ha, ha!” laughed Scood.