"And, besides," continued the unconscious speaker, "hadna I certain information, frae a quarter that I couldna doot, that he had set oot on ane o' his vagaries, and that there was every reason to believe that he had come oor way. And it's the very dress, too, that was described to me."
("By my troth, then, but that's queer aneuch!" here quoth Willie. "Wha the deil could hae tellt you that I was on the tramp, and that I was coming this way? My very dress described, too—'od, that's unaccountable.")
"It's a queer notion that o' the man's wanderin aboot the country this way," here interposed the laird's wife. "I'm sure he maun meet wi' mony odd adventures whan he's on thae tramps."
("Deil a doot's o't—mony a ane; and that I hae met wi' the nicht's ane o' them. But what's strange in the notion o' me gaun aboot the country? How else could I mak a leevin o't?")
"His faither had the same trick before him," replied the laird to his wife's remarks.
("That's a curst lie—my faither, honest man, was a douce, decent, sober-livin weaver.")
"I reckon't, guidwife, a lucky thing that he has come oor way."
("Do ye, indeed!—then, feth, say do I.")
"He'll no forget oor kindness, I dare say."
("The ne'er a bit o' that I'll do.")