"Ay," she said, "I am thinkin' it is no' the first time that you ha'e done this. Tell me aboot the English lassies. Are they bonnie?"
"I know very little about them," I replied, and she, with twinkling eyes, returned:
"Ye dinna expect me to believe that, dae ye?"
With mock solemnity I laid my hand upon my heart and swore I spoke the truth, but she only laughed.
"Tell me," she said, "are they bonnie? I've heard tell they are."
"Well, Mary," I answered, "there may be bonnie lassies in England, but I've seen far bonnier ones in Scotland."
She plucked a daisy and held its yellow heart against her chin. "Oh ay," she said, "I've heard that the Wigtown lassies are gey weel-faured. Nae doot, when ye were a sodger there, ye had a sweetheart."
"No," I said, "I had no sweetheart in Wigtown, although I saw a very bonnie lass there."
"I knew it, I knew it," she cried. "And maybe ye helped her to make a daisy chain?"
"No, Mary," I said, "I never had a chance. I saw her only for an hour."