“I see it’s true! I see it’s true!” she said, “an’ ye’re no joking me! An’ that wicked callant, to gang and gie me sic a fright! Hech! I haena gotten the better o’t yet!”
“An’ now, Jeanie, that I hae seen ye,” says Geordie, “I maun rin awa hame and tell my gude auld mither that it’s a’ fixed; for she wasna in when your father cam to the Hope; and then I maun awa to the toun for things. An’ what’ll I bring ye, Jeanie? what’ll I bring?”
“Ou, just onything ye like,” said she; “bring back yoursel, that’s a’ Jeanie cares about.”
An’ she stands an’ looks after him till he’s out o’ sight; an’ as she turns about, “Jeanie! my ain Jeanie!” says James, takin’ her in his arms.
“My ain gude and aye kind brither!” said Jeanie, resting her head on his shouther.
“She’ll no speak to me, nae doubt,” says William, his voice shakin’ a wee.
“Ah, ye wicked callant!” says Jeanie, kissing his cheek. “But ye mauna plague me nae mair; na, ye’ll no daur do’t!”
“No!” cries William, “I’m sure I’m fit for a’ that Geordie Wilson can do ony day, an’ maybe mair.”
Jeanie was gaun to answer, but she got her ee on the miller standing at the door.
“I maun hae his blessing first,” she cries, “and then Jeanie’s heart will be at peace.”