10
Fath. Na, na, I'll no allow that until the peats are custen and hurled.
Mag. O father! 'tis dangerous to delay the like of that, I like him, and he likes me; 'tis best to strike the iron when 'tis hot.
Fath. And wha's she gaun to get, gudewife?
Mith. And wha think ye, gudeman?
Fath. A what wat I, here and she please hersel, I'm pleased already.
Mith. Indeed she's gaun to get Johnny Bell, as clever a little fellow as in a' the barony whare he bides.
Fath. A-weel, a-weel herie, she's your's as well as mine, gie her to wha ye please.
Mith. A-weel, Maggy, I'se hae all things ready to hae thee married or a month.
Mag. Thanks to ye Mither, mony a gude turn hae ye done me, and this will be the best.
Hame gaed Jockey to mither crying.
Jock. Mither! mither I made it out, her mouth is sweeter than milk; my heart played a whilkie whaltie, whan I kissed her.
Mith. Fair fa' thee, my son, Johnny, thou's gotten the geat o't at last. And whan art thou gaun to be married?
Jock. Whan I like, mither; but get the masons the morn to big me my hoose, for I'll hae a' things in right good order.
