178. “Yes, Sam’l; but I thocht better o’t.”

179. “Hoo d’ye mean?” asked Sam’l, a little anxiously.

180. “Weel, Sam’l, mairitch is a terrible responsibeelity.”

181. “It is so,” said Sam’l, wincing.

182. “An’ no the thing to tak up withoot conseederation.”

183. “But it’s a blessed and honourable state, Sanders; ye’ve heard the minister on’t.”

184. “They say,” continued the relentless Sanders, “'at the minister doesna get on sair wi’ the wife himsel.”

185. “So they do,” cried Sam’l, with a sinking at the heart.

186. “I’ve been telt,” Sanders went on, “'at gin ye can get the upper han’ o’ the wife for a while at first, there’s the mair chance o’ a harmonious exeestence.”

187. “Bell’s no the lassie,” said Sam’l, appealingly, “to thwart her man.”