“The deil tak the string and the whaun too!” cried he, “I’ll meddle nae mair wi’t the day.” Sae he hangs it up, and then draws out his watch and examines it again. “It’s really a grand siller watch, an’ a grand siller chain too, an’ mony a ane will be asking to look at it;—and I think Elie Allison wad like to see it;—and now that I mind o’t, gif I didna promise to ca’ and tell her a’ the news, and me to forget it a’ this time!”
Sae awa William fares to Elie’s, and there he sits crackin’ and laughin’ at an unco rate, and never thinking o’ the time o’ day. And Elie’s auntie, she says to him, “And now, William, are ye for takin’ a potato wi’ us, or are ye gaun hame?”
An’ his face turned a wee red, for he thought she wantit him awa; and he said he was gaun hame, to be sure.
“But dinna tak it amiss,” said the auntie, “for I thought ye wad be ower late for hame.”
“Nae fear o’ that,” said William, “for we dinna dine till twa o’clock.”
“I kent that,” said she, “but it’s past it already.”
“The deuce it is!” cried William, jumping up; “then fareweel—I’ll maybe see ye the morn.”
As he’s hurrying hame, he sees somebody coming frae the road to the Hope, and walking unco fast.
“’Od,” thought he, “can that be Jeanie?—’deed is’t, an’ I’ll lay my lugs she hasna been hame yet. But I maun get before her, and then see if I dinna gie her’t, for what she said to me the day.”
Sae awa he sets wi’ a’ his might, an’ as he gets near the mill, aff wi’ his coat, an’ up wi’ a spade, an’ begins delving; an’ keeking ower his shouther, he sees Jeanie turning the corner o’ the plantin’, but he never lets on, nor looks round, till she’s just beside him, an’ speaks to him.