And sae as they’re gaun down the road thegither, they meets William, an’ Geordie tells him how matters stood. An’ when William hears o’t, he shakes Geordie by the hand, an’ awa he flees ower ditch and dyke, an’ is hame in nae time. An’ after resting himsel a minute, an’ to tak breath, in he gangs to the kitchen; an’ when Jeanie sees him, she says, “Ye’re warm-like, William,—ye’ve surely been running?”
“Is onything wrang wi’ my father?” asked he.
“Gude forbid!” said Jeanie; “but what maks ye speir?”
“Ou, naething ava, amaist; but only I met him walking unco grave-like, an’ he scarcely spak to me; an’ I met wi’ Geordie Wilson too, and he didna say muckle either.”
“Preserve us a’!” cries Jeanie; “if onything has happened atween the twa!”
“What could put that nonsense in your head, lassie?” said William. “By-the-by,” continues he, after a pause, “Geordie’s at the end o’ the lane, an’ wishing muckle to speak to ye.”
“An’ what for did ye no tell me that at first, ye haverel?” cried Jeanie; and out she flees. An’ just as she’s turning the corner, she runs against her father wi’ a great drive.
“The lassie’s in a creel, I think!” quoth the miller; “but it’s the same wi’ them a’.”
“Jeanie! my ain Jeanie!” whispers Geordie, “an’ it’s a’ settled for neist week, and we’ll be sae happy!”
Jeanie held him at arm’s length frae her, that she might look him in the face.