"Ye maun
be jist sic anither as her!"
"Weel, come in, an' sit ye doon oot o' the sin, an' hae something to
ait."
"Na, I'll tak nae mair frae ye the day, an' I thank ye," replied
Donal; "I canna weel bide."
"What for no?"
"It's no sae muckle 'at I'm in a hurry as 'at I maun be duin'."
"Whaur are ye b'un' for, gien a body may speir?"
"I'm gaein' to seek--no my fortin, but my daily breid. Gien I spak
as a richt man, I wad say I was gaein' to luik for the wark set me.
I'm feart to say that straucht oot; I haena won sae far as that
yet. I winna du naething though 'at he wadna hae me du. I daur to
say that--sae be I un'erstan'. My mither says the day 'ill come
whan I'll care for naething but his wull."
"Yer mither 'ill be Janet Grant, I'm thinkin'! There canna be twa
sic in ae country-side!"
"Ye're i' the richt," answered Donal. "Ken ye my mither?"
"I hae seen her; an' to see her 's to ken her."
"Ay, gien wha sees her be sic like 's hersel'."
"I canna preten' to that; but she's weel kent throu' a' the country
for a God-fearin' wuman.--An' whaur 'll ye be for the noo?"
"I'm jist upo' the tramp, luikin' for wark."
"An' what may ye be pleast to ca' wark?"
"Ow, jist the communication o' what I hae the un'erstan'in' o'."
"Aweel, gien ye'll condescen' to advice frae an auld wife, I'll gie
ye a bit wi' ye: tak na ilka lass ye see for a born angel.
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