“Never heed her,” said Tibbie. “Sit into the table, and take your tea. She’s a light-headed fuil—and ye can tell Johnnie Halflin that frae me.”
“Is Miss Anne gaun to bide in Edinburgh?” inquired Bessie, as they seated themselves at Tibbie’s clean, small table.
“No—she’s gaun to the sea-side.”
“Eh, Jacky, where? we’ll come out and see ye.”
“I dinna mind the name of the place,” said Jacky, “but it’s on the sea-side.”
“And what’s Miss Anne gaun to do?”
Jacky paused to deliberate. “She’s no gaun to do onything.—She’s just gaun to please hersel.”
“Ay,” said the inquisitive Bessie, “but what is’t for?”
“It’s maybe for something good,” said Jacky, quickly, “for that’s aye Miss Anne’s way; but she wasna gaun to tell me.”
“But what do you think it is, Jacky?” persisted Bessie, “ane can aye gie a guess—is she gaun to be married?”