"Is that a'?" says she, coolly slipping awa her hand. "I really thought, from seeing sae muckle dumb-show, that ye had something o' importance to tell me."
"Might I ask, if ye like me?" says I to her, earnestly.
"Were it even possible that I did," says she, "do ye think that I wad be sic a born fool as to tell ye?—Atweel do I no!"
I had often heard, Richard, o' folk being dumbfoundered; but, till that moment, I never knew what it was to be so mysel; and such was the keen sense o' my silliness, that I even wished I might sink down through the earth, clean out o' sight and hearing. As matters stood, however, I saw there was naething for it but urging Margery to discretion; so I says till her, seriously—
"I hope in heaven, Margery, that neither your partner nor anybody else will be the better o' what has passed between you and me this night!"
"What do you mean?" says she.
"Why," says I, "I mean, that ye'll no acquaint them wi' my liking for you."
"Guid truly," says she, wi' a toss o' her head, "I wad hae muckle to speak aboot! To tell ye the truth, lad, I never was thinking ony mair aboot it, nor wad it hae entered into my head again, had ye no mentioned it."
"I do not care," says I, rather wittily, "how seldom it enter your head, Margery, so long as it engage your heart."
"Ye're a queer man," says she, "to be a schulemaister;" and skipped aff to the manse, without expressing the least desire to see me again.