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Updated: June 15, 2025
'That 'll be are o' the secrets the bonny man's gaein to tell his ain fowk whan he gets them hame wi' him! 'His ain fowk, Kirsty? 'Ay, siclike's you and me. Whan we gang hame, he'll tell's a' aboot a heap o' things we wad fain ken. 'His ain fowk! His ain fowk! Steenie went on for a while murmuring to himself at intervals. At last he said, 'What maks them his ain fowk, Kirsty?
I hae muckle to be thankfu' for 'at I was sic as no man ever luikit twice at. I wasna weel faured eneuch; though I had bonny hair, an' my mither aye said 'at her Maggy hed guid sense; whatever else she micht or micht not hae. But gien I cud hae gotten a guid man, siclike's is scarce, I cud hae lo'ed him weel eneuch. But that's naither here nor there, an' has naething to du wi' onybody ava.
'The catacombs, answered Kirsty, 'was what in auld times, and no i' this cuintry ava, they ca'd the places whaur they laid their deid. 'Eh, Kirsty, but that's waur! returned Steenie. 'I wudna gang intil sic a place wi' feet siclike's my ain na, no for what the warl cud gie me! no for lang Lowrie's fiddle and a' the tunes intil't! I wud never get my feet oot o' 't! They'd haud me there!
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