Looks round startled.
I couldn't keep from it. There's a spell or somethin' on it.
Samuel James.
Na. Na. But every fiddle has its spell for you. You broke your promise.
Robbie John.
You followed me then?
Samuel James.
Yes. Ye crept on your stocking soles to the back o' the forth ditch, and played there for two mortal hours, till I was heart feared they'd miss us out o' bed, and raise a cry.
Robbie John.
And you stood two hours in the night listenin' to me.