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"He's an ill man that blackgairds his wife, altho' she were the deevil's sister," says Mysie; an' even Ribekka gae her moo a dicht, an' whispered to hersel', "Eh, aye, that's a troo sayin'." "I'll no' say a wird again' men," said Mistress Mikaver, "for Wellum was a guid man to me"; an' she took a lang breth throo her nose, an' lookit up at the picture abune the chumla.
"There's twal o'clock," said Ribekka; "we'll need to be goin'. Gude-nicht, Jeems. See an' mind aboot me. Gude-nicht." "Gude-nicht, my ain bonnie lassie," Jeems harken'd in till her. "Dinna be feared o' me forgettin' ye. I never lift a shuffle o' coals but, I think I see your face.
"Are your shure?" began the auld ass again; an' me stanin' near frozen to death wi' cauld, an' cudna get oot o' the bit. "Never!" said Beek; "never!" "Gude-nicht, than, dearie, an' see an' no' forget me. Will ye no'?" "Ye needna be feared, Jeems. I luve you alone, an' nae ither body i' the wide, wide world. Gude-nicht, my Jeemie." "Gude-nicht, than, Ribekka, luvie. An' if you dinna forget "
"Hoo d'ye think that?" said Ribekka. "Cause it wudda lookit so fine Izik an' Ribekka, d'ye see?" an' they nickered an' leuch like a' that. "An' I wudda been Ribekka at the wall," said Beek. "Exackly," said Jeems; "altho' this auld pump's hardly the kind o' wall they had in thae days. I hope there's nae horn-gollochs aboot it."
Every puff o' the engine brings me in mind o' ye, Ribekka; an' when I sit doon to tak' my denner, I lat fa' my flagon whiles, I'm that taen up thinkin' aboot ye." "Eh, Jeems, you're codin' me noo! But gude-night! Eh, mind ye, it's Sabbath mornin'." "Gude-nicht, my bonnie lassie. Oh, Ribekka, you're sweeter gin heather honey. I wiss Sint Tammas Market was here, an' we'll be nae langer twa but wan.
He's a fine coodie man, Jeems; an' he'll tak' care o' Ribekka, the young taed. Wha wudda thocht it?" Ribekka had her moo half fu' o' the lace on her saitin apron, an' was enjoyin' the raggin' fine, altho' she was terriple putten aboot, wi' her wey o't. "Better sit still than rise up an' fa'," said Mysie. "Gin I were Ribekka I'd bide my leen.
An' if the truth be tell'd, I wasna very braw mysel'. Thinks I to mysel', as I've heard the Gairner's wife say, them that hae riven breeks had better keep their seats. Gairner Winton's wife was there, lookin' as happy an' impident as uswal; an' Ribekka Steein cam' in juist as me an' Mistress Kenawee were gettin' set doon amon' the rest.
"Gin a budy be gaen doon the brae, ilky ane 'ill gie ye a gundy." The twa keepit at it wi' their proverbs till I got akinda nervish, d'ye ken. They were that terriple wyze, that, as fac's ocht, mind you, they near drave some o' the rest o's daft. "Did you hear tell that Ribekka here was genna get Jeems Ethart?" said Mistress Mollison to the Gairner's wife, juist to get her on to Beek's tap.
"Better keep the deil atower the door than drive him oot o' the hoose." "'Saut, quo the souter, when he ate the soo, an' worried on the tail," was the Gairner's wife's comment; an' Mysie didna like it, I can tell ye. "You wasna in that wey o' thinkin' when Dossie Millar, the skulemester, used to come an' coort you, when you was up-by at the Provost's," said Ribekka to Mysie.
Ribekka blushed like a lassie o' fifteen, an' bringin' her tongue alang her upper lip, she shook her heid an' says, "Juist a lot o' blethers. Jeems wudna hae a puir thing like me." "Ye dinna tell me!" said Mistress Winton, never lattin' wink she heard Ribekka. "That's the wey o't is't? Imphm! What d'ye think o' that, na? Weel dune, Ribekka.
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