"Weel, if that s'ould be, there is mony a tongue would lap it frae the floor but they would hae it," said Donald.
"Hoo is that lad o' Daft Jamie's likely to turn oot?" asked Wullie.
"Bad eneuch. What but a miracle would save him? He is aye standin' in the bar-room. His mither brought him there when he couldna mair than toddle; and he has aye been sippin' and lickin' at the stoups folk set doun. Noo he does mair: he taks his dram like ony ither ne'er-do-weel, so I am tauld. I dinna gang there to see it, ye ken."
"Weel, by the look o' it, they will a' gang to ruin thegither."
"I had a'maist said, 'The de'il may care,' but I wunna. I wunna wish evil on ony ane; neither will I think sae lightly o' the ills which befa' ony o' the human family."
"That last is weel said. We maun not only wish nae ill to ony ane, but if we can, we maun help up the fallen and lead to firm groun' those that stand in slippery places."
Donald, who could not long be silent, turned to Annie and asked, "Hoo like ye the new sculemaister?"
"I like him vera weel," said little Annie, blushing to find herself addressed.