“Ay,” says the miller; “and I’m thinking o’ speirin’ if there’s room there for ane o’ ye.”
“Now God bless my gude auld father,” said Jeanie; “he sees brawly what I wanted, and wadna even look me in the face to confuse me.”
“Geordie Wilson,” cries the miller, “when will it suit you to marry my dochter?”
“The day—the morn—ony day,” answers Geordie, as happy’s a prince.
“Because I was thinking,” says the miller, “that it might be as weel to pit James’s waddin’ and yours ower thegither.”
“Wi’ a’ my heart,” says Geordie, “wi’ a’ my heart!”
“Weel, then,” quoth the miller, “I’ll awa hame and see what our Jeanie says to’t.”
“And I’ll gang wi’ you,” cries Geordie.
“Come your wa’s then, my man,” says the miller.