Won't you bid me good-by ?" He approached her timidly.
"Ay! that wull do," cried she; "Gude be wi' ye, lad; I wish ye nae ill." She gave a commanding gesture of dismissal; he turned away, and went sadly from her.

She watched every motion when his back was turned.
"That is you, Christie," said Jean; "use the lads like dirt, an' they think a' the mair o' ye." "Oh, Jean, my hairt's broken.

I'm just deeing for him." "Let me speak till him then," said Jean; "I'll sune bring him till his marrow-banes;" and she took a hasty step to follow him.
Christie held her fast.

"I'd dee ere I'd give in till them.

Oh, Jean! I'm a lassie clean flung awa; he has neither hairt nor spunk ava, yon lad!" Jean began to make excuses for him.