"Gie's your hand on't," said Robin; and Patie gave him his hand.
Now the two friends parted, and it is unnecessary for me either to describe their parting, or the reception which Patie, on his arriving at Birgham, met with from his spouse.
Twelve months went round, Dunse fair came again, and after the fair was over, Patie Crichton once more went in quest of his old friend, Robin Roughead. He found him standing in the horse market, and—
"How's a' wi' ye, my freend?" says Patie.
"Oh, hearty, hearty," cries the other; "but how's a' wi' ye?—how is yer family?"
"Come and get the bottle o' wine that I've to gie ye," said Patie, "and I'll tell ye a' about it."
"I'll do that," said Robin, "for my business is dune."
So they went into the same house in the Castle Wynd where they had been twelve months before, and Patie called for a bottle of wine; but he found that the house had not the wine license, and was therefore content with a gill of whisky made into toddy.
"O man," said he to Robin, "I wad pay ye half a dizen bottles o' wine wi' as great cheerfu'ness as I raise this glass to my lips. It was a grand advice that o' yours—stop the supplies."
"I am glad to hear it," said Robin; "I was sure it was the only thing that would do."