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I'm doubting he'll kill me, woman, if you dinna gang awa." Poor Babbie put her hand to her heart, but the innocent lad continued mercilessly "If ony shame comes to the minister, his auld mither'll die. How have you sic an ill will at the minister?" Babbie held up her hands like a supplicant. "I'll gie you my rabbit." Micah said, "if you'll gang awa. I've juist the ane."
Daddy's no' weel the nicht," she excused, "an' didna' ken what he was doin'." Then breaking into a louder tone: "I wonder what in Heaven's name puir folk are born for at a'. There noo'. There noo'. Dinna greet, my wee man, an' mither'll gi'e ye yer denner."
Do 'at he like, Beauchamp's dirk couldna hurt ye sae muckle as yer ain han', whan ye liftit the first glass to yer ain mou' the nicht. Ye hae despised a' my warnings. And sorrow and shame'll come o' 't. And I'll hae to beir a' the wyte o' 't. Yer mither'll jist hate me like the verra black taed that no woman can bide. Gang awa' to yer bed. I canna bide the sicht o' ye."
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