By fountain, shaw, or green,
There’s not a bonnie bird that sings,
But minds me o’ my Jean.
Jean: Thank you, Robin. I’ve heard from my father. He’s coming on Friday.
Burns: As you like.
Jean: You know how proud he is of you now.
Burns: Aye. I know.
[The Girl comes back with clean plates, which she puts on the dresser.]
The Girl: Mrs. Fergus is coming across the field, Mrs. Burns.
[She goes out again.]