lad, Jennie; I hae nae siller to offer ye, and nae land." "Ah, but ye hae yoursel', Davie!" "An' I'm wishfu' it wa' onything else, lassie. I'm nae but a puir ill-seasoned loon, Jennie." "Na, na; there's mony a lad mair ill-looking than yoursel', Davie." "I hae na seen him, lass, and I'm just a-thinkin' I shouldna' care to." "Better a plain man, Davie, that ye can depend a' than ane that would be a speirin' at the lassies, a-bringin' trouble into the hame wi' his flouting ways." "Dinna ye reckon on that, Jennie; it's nae the bonniest Bubbly Jock that mak's the most feathers to fly in the kailyard. I was ever a lad to run after the petticoats, as is weel kent; an' it's a weary handfu' I'll be to ye, I'm thinkin'." "Ah, but ye hae a kind heart, Davie! an' ye love me weel. I'm sure on't." "I like ye weel enoo', Jennie, though I canna say how long the feeling may bide wi' me; an' I'm kind enoo' when I hae my ain way, an' naethin' happens to put me oot. But I hae the deevil's ain temper, as my mither call tell ye, an' like my puir fayther, I'm a-thinkin', I'll grow nae better as I grow mair auld." "Ay, but ye're sair hard upon yersel', Davie. Ye're an honest lad. I ken ye better than ye ken yersel', an' ye'll mak a guid hame for me." "Maybe, Jennie! But I hae my doots. It's a sair thing for wife an' bairns when the guid man canna keep awa' frae the glass; an' when the scent of the whusky comes to me it's just as though I hae'd the throat o' a Loch Tay salmon; it just gaes doon an' doon, an' there's nae filling o' me." "Ay, but ye're a guid man when ye're sober, Davie." "Maybe I'll be that, Jennie, if I'm nae disturbed." "An' ye'll bide wi' me, Davie, an' work for me?" "I see nae reason why I shouldna bide wi' yet Jennie; but dinna ye clack aboot work to me, for I just canna bear the thoct o't."