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Ye div think though, Kirsty, 'at I'm b'un' to see him some day? 'I'm thinkin the hoor's been aye set for that same! answered Kirsty. 'Kirsty, returned Steenie, not quite satisfied with her reply, 'I'll gang clean oot the wuts I hae, gien ye tell me I'm never to see him face to face! 'Steenie, rejoined Kirsty solemnly, 'I wud gang oot o' my wuts mysel gien I didna believe that!
Without any preliminary, she at once demanded why he had not come down to see them. 'Mary, said he, calling the servant, as if he did not hear her, 'Some ale, and the ginger wine, and the grey-beard mebbe you'd like a drop a' shart' to me; but I declined. She repeated her question, but Uncle Bennet was looking towards me. 'The wuts be very forrard, said he, 'I got some a-most ready to cut.
"My wife 'll be oot o' her wuts," pleaded Angus. "Wad ye like a drink o' milk?" asked Janet, rising. "I wad that," he answered. She filled her little teapot with milk, and he drank it from the spout, hoping she was on the point of giving way. "Noo," she said, when he had finished his draught, "ye maun jist mak the best o' it, Angus.
Now, before I found this out about the stable, it happened one spring day that I met Hilary in the fields, and listened to a long tirade which he delivered against 'wuts. The wheat was then showing a beautiful flag, the despised oats were coming out in jag, and the black knots on the delicate barley straw were beginning to be topped with the hail.
Mistress Mac Farlane had been severe as the law itself against lying among the maids, but now, when it came to her own defence where she knew her self wrong, she lied just like one of the wicked. "My dear missie," said Janet, when they got home, "ye maun write to yer father, or he'll be oot o' 's wuts aboot ye."
"Ay did we at last, my lord; but we made naething by 't, for he kent noucht aboot the lassie, an 'maist lost his wuts at the news." "No great loss, that!" said the marquis. "Go and send Stoat here." "Is there ony hurry aboot Sto't, my lord?" asked Malcolm, hesitating. "I had a word to say to yer lordship mysel'." "Make haste then."
And pushing the collie from him, he sat up in bed and looked anxiously but vainly round the chamber for the Man of Peace. "Lie doun, lie doun," cried the gudewife from beside him. "Ye're surely out o' your wuts, Brockburn. Would ye gang stravaging about the country again the nicht?" "Where is he?" cried the Laird. "There's not a soul here but your lawful wife and your ain dear doggie.
I will give you L100 a year," and handed them to her. "Lord, Sir Gibbie!" she cried, jumping to her feet, "hae ye tint yer wuts? Hoo wad an auld wife like me luik in sic a place an' in sic duds as this? It wad gar Sawtan lauch, an' that he can but seldom." Gibbie rose, and taking her by the hand, led her to the door of an adjoining room.
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