"Whatna Jeffray?" asked, without much show of interest, the ploughman from Drumglass.
"Wi' man, the young lad that the daft folk in Enbra sent here for
Sheriff."
"I didna ken he was hereawa'," said the Mains, with a purely perfunctory surprise.
"Ou ay, he has been a feck ower by at the Barr. They say he's gaun to get marriet to the youngest dochter. She's hae a gye fat stockin'-fit, I'se warrant."
"Ye may say sae, or a lawyer wadna come speerin' her," returned him from
Drumglass as the boat reached the farther side.
"Guid-e'en to ye, Grace," said they both as they put their pennies down on the little tin plate in the corner.
"She's an awesome still lassie, that," said the Mains, as he took the road down to Parton Raw, where he had trysted with a maid of another sort. "Did ye notice she never said a word to us, neyther 'Thank ye,' nor yet 'Guid-day'? Her een were fair stelled in her head."
"Na, I didna observe," said Drumglass cotman indifferently.
"Some fowk are like swine. They notice nocht that's no pitten intil the trough afore them!" said the Mains indignantly.
So they parted, each to his own errand.