“I really maist dinna ken what to do wi’ mysel the day,” said William; “I can neither settle to work, nor yet sit still; ’od, by-the-by, I’ll gang an’ ’oup my fishing rod, to be ready for the neist shower.”
Sae he taks it doun an’ begins working at it, and presently he sees James rise and put on his bonnet.
“Whaur are ye gaun, James,” says he.
“I was thinking,” says James, “o’ gaun up to Wattie Simpson’s to see if they want ony potatoes.”
“Just as if they didna get a bow o’ them last Tuesday!” said William.
“Weel, I can stap in an’ speir how they like them.”
“Are ye sure, James, you’re gaun there?” asked William, a wee slily.
“Where’er I’m gaun, William,” said James, “I’m gaun for nae harm.”
“I’ve gane far eneugh wi’ Samson,” thought William; “sae I’ll say nae mair.” An’ sae he keeps tying his fishing-rod; but no muckle minding what he’s doing, the string plays snap in twa.
“Toots!” says William, a wee angered, “and me sae near dune!” Sae he begins ower again, wi’ mair care; but he sune forgets himsel again, an’ snap gangs the twine a second time.