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'Lat the lasses greit for ye gin they like; but haud oot ower frae the kissin'. I wadna mell wi' 't. 'Hoot, father, dinna put sic nonsense i' the bairns' heids, said Miss Lammie. 'Whilk 's the nonsense, Aggy? asked her father, slily. 'But I doobt, he added, 'he'll never play the Flooers o' the Forest as it suld be playt, till he's had a taste o' the kissin', lass.
Ye wad hae jist thoucht the strings had been drawn frae his ain inside, he kent them sae weel, and han'led them sae fine. Eh! to hear him play the Flooers o' the Forest wad hae garred ye greit. 'Cud my father play? asked Robert. 'Ay, weel eneuch for him. He could do onything he likit to try, better nor middlin'. I never saw sic a man.
'Her hert's sae sair it gars her greit. She canna help greitin, puir dauty! Phemy lifted her face from Kirsty's bosom, where, like a miserable child, she had been pressing it hard, and, seeming to have lost in the depth of her grief all her natural shyness, looked at Steenie with the most pitiful look ever countenance wore: her rage had turned to self-commiseration.
Gin ye kent hoo I lie awauk at nicht, no able to sleep for thinkin' 'at the day will come whan I'll see wi' my ain open een the verra face o' him that bore oor griefs an' carried oor sorrows, till I jist lie and greit, for verra wissin', ye wadna say 'at I dinna ken what the sicht o' a body's een is. Sae nae mair o' that!
Gien ye dinna learn to ate, we s' never get ony guid o' ye!" "I just can't eat for gladness," returned Isy. "Ye're that good to me, that I dare hardly think aboot it; it'll gar me greit! Lat me help ye, mem, and I'll grow hungry by dennertime!" Mrs. Blatherwick understood, and said no more.
There's naething 'at you or onybody can dee for me! But I'm near the mou o' the pit, and God be thankit, I'll be ower the rim o' 't or I hae grutten my last greit oot! For God's sake gie me a drink a drink o' onything!" "I daurna gie ye onything to ca' drink," answered the minister, who could scarcely speak for the swelling in his throat. "The thing to dee ye guid is a cup o' het tay!
Amongst the more humble followers of the court, the immortal Dunbar, who was neglected in his own day, and who has been scarce less neglected and overlooked by posterity, was conspicuous. The poet-priest appeared to be a director of the intellectual amusements of the day. "Greit abbais graith I nill to gather But ane kirk scant coverit with hadder, For I of lytil wald be fane."
Do you think they had any right to do that? Remember the jury had acquitted her." "And has she railly confessed? I am glaid o' that! I only wuss they could get a haud o' Madeline Smith as weel, and persuaud her to confess! Eh, the state o' that puir crater's conscience! It 'maist gars me greit to think o' 't! Gien she wad but confess, houp wad spring to life in her sin-oppressed soul!
"I'm no leein'," answered she, bursting into tears of indignation. "Wha said 'at I took them?" "That's naething to the pint. Ye wadna greit that gait gin ye war innocent. I never missed onything afore. And ye ken weel eneuch there's an ee that sees a' thing, and ye canna hide frae hit."
What for sud onybody greit 'at has but a far awa' notion o' sic a God as you an' the laird an' Maister Simon believes in!" "Ye may weel say that, Aggie!" rejoined Cosmo yet sighed as he said it, for he thought of Lady Joan. A long pause followed, and then he spoke again. "Aggie," he said, "there canna weel be twa i' this warl' 'at ken ane anither better nor you an' me.
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