‘Wise folks begin where ither folk end.’
“Gay laughed that lorde. Nae more said he,
But thrice he kissed that fair ladye,
He kissed till she was red to see;
And they’re awa’ to the North Countree.”
“And is that your notion of wooing, Mr. Ned?”
“Rose she says it’s a horrid song.”
“You just ask her,” said Dick. “Hang that pie!”
Carington, laughing, stepped into his canoe, and settled himself in easy comfort against the baggage piled up behind him. “See you soon, boys.”
Then he said, “Michelle, you may drop me at the point where Miss Lyndsay is. I shall walk up.”