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There was ane Lucky Shaw set up her lang lantern chafts, an' answered me, an' a' the rest shanned and noddit in assent an' approbation: 'Ye silly, sauchless, Cameronian cuif! quo she, 'is that a' that ye ken about the wiles and doings o' the Prince o' the Air, that rules an' works in the bairns of disobedience?
She nodded kindly, and he descended approaching her. "Did ye want me, my leddy?" he asked. "No," she answered. "I wasna sure whether ye noddit 'cause ye wantit me or no," said Malcolm, and turned to reascend the dune. "Where are you going now?" she asked. "Ow! nae gait in particlar. I jist cam oot to see hoo things war luikin." "What things?"
Whenever the singin' began ye wudda heard a preen fa'. "There was a lad was born in Kyle," juist nearhand garred Sandy jump aff his seat. He cud hardly keep his feet still, an' he noddit his heid frae side to side, an' leuch, like's he was some noo-married king drivin' awa' throo the streets o' London till his honeymune.
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