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But I'm ready to hear ye tell me my duty; I'm no past reasonin wi'! 'Did ye never hear 'at ye're to lo'e yer neebour as yersel? 'I'm duin that wi' a' my hert, Kirsty and that ye ken as weel as I du mysel! 'Ye mean me, Francie! And ye ca' that lo'in me, to wull me merry a man 'at 's no a man ava! But it's nae me 'at 's yer neebour, Francie! 'Wha is my neebour, Kirsty?
"That's no what Maister Graham would mean, daddy," said Malcolm. "He would mean that God was the father o' 's a', and sae we cudna help lo'in' ane anither." "No; tat cannot pe right, Malcolm; for then we should haf to love eferybody. Now she loves you, my son, and she hates Cawmill of Clenlyon. She loves Mistress Partan when she'll not pe too rude to her, and she hates tat Mistress Catanach.
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