“Me!” said William, “how should I ken whaur folk stravaig to? I might rather hae askit you gif ye had fa’en in wi’ him, I think.”
“Aye, aye, my man, but ye’re speaking rather crouse. And whaur hae ye been yoursel a’ day, I wonder? No delvin’, I’m sure, gif ane may judge by the wee pickle yird that’s turned up.”
“An’ do ye think,” said William, “that after a’ my racing and rinnin’, I should hae been delving a’ day, and lighter wark to do about the farm?”
“An’ whaur was ye, then, that father couldna see you when he was out?”
“Did my father cry on me?” asked William.
“No,” said Jeanie; “at least he didna say’t.”
“Then that’s it,—just it; for he cries sae loud, that it wad hae wakened a man wi’ the hale haystack abune him, forbye lyin’ at the side o’t.”
“An’ sae ye’ll hae me to believe,” says Jeanie, “that ye was sleepin’; but I’m thinking ye was anither gate. I’se find it out yet.”
“Women’s tongues, women’s tongues!” said William, beating a piece yird as if he wad mak pouther o’t; “they’re aye either fleechin’ or flytin’.”
“Did ye ever say that to Elie Allison? Ye’ve been there, I’ve a notion. But we’ll say nae mair about it enow, for yonder’s James; sae pit ye on your coat, and bring in your spade; or if ye’ll wait, James will carry it for ye, for your arms maun be unco wearit!”