“And I think we can live a long time without having the proud satisfaction glowing within our manly buzzoms that we have done it all.”
“But come, I’m hungry,” said Sandie.
“Et ego quoque,” quoth Willie.
“There is cold beef about, I know. Let us go and hunt up Jeannie.”
Jeannie was easily found, and produced in the kitchen, sans cérémonie, not only cold beef, but freshly boiled mashed potatoes and two huge beakers of milk.
“Fa’ tee,” she said, meaning “Fall to.” “Fa’ tee, laddies.”
The laddies didn’t require a second bidding.
That evening at six o’clock, after bread and cheese and a dram, the ploughman chiels took their horses home. They would need all their time to dress and get back to the ball; but the farmers themselves were entertained in Kilbuie’s biggest room to a plain but substantial dinner. They sat down at half-past six o’clock, and it was nine before they rose to go.
By this time the hall was beginning to fill with buxom lads and lasses gay. There were forms by way of seats arranged all around the walls, and the lasses sat religiously on one side, and the lads on the other.
The dresses of the girls were all simple, chiefly white, with coloured ribbons in their hair, and light silken plaids of tartan thrown prettily over the shoulder. Many of the lads wore the Highland dress.