the next morning, kirsty told her parents that she was going to marry francie.

‘ye du richt, my bairn,’ said her father. ‘he’s come in sicht o’ ’s high callin, and it’s no possible for ye langer to refuse him.’

‘but, eh! what am i to du wantin ye, kirsty?’ moaned her mother.

‘ye min’, mother,’ answered kirsty, ‘hoo i wad be oot the lang day wi’ steenie, and ye never thoucht ye hadna me!’

‘na, never. i aye kenned i had the twa o’ ye.’

‘weel, it’s no a god’s-innocent but a deil’s-gowk i’ll hae to luik efter noo, and i maun come hame ilka possible chance to get hertenin frae you and my father, or i winna be able to bide it. eh, mother, efter steenie, it’ll be awfu’ to spen’ the day wi’ her! it’s no ’at ever she’ll be fou: i s’ see to that!—it’s ’at she’ll aye be toom!—aye ringin wi’ toomness!’

here kirsty turned to her father, and said,—

‘wull ye gie me a tocher, father?’

‘ay wull i, lassie,—what ye like, sae far as i hae ’t to gie.’

‘i want donal—that’s a’. ye see i maun ride a heap wi’ the puir thing, and i wud fain hae something aneth me ’at ye gae me! the cratur’ll aye hing to the knowe, and whan i gie his wull he’ll fess me hame o’ himsel.—i wud hae likit things to bide as they are, but she wud hae worn puir francie to the verra deid!’