Rankeillor made himself very ridiculous (and, I thought offensive) with his admiration for the young lady, and to my wonder (only it is so common a weakness of her sex) she seemed, if anything, to be a little gratified.

One use it had: for when we were come to the other side, she laid her commands on him to mind the boat, while she and I passed a little further to the ale-house.

This was her own thought, for she had been taken with my account of Alison Hastie, and desired to see the lass herself.

We found her once more alone--indeed, I believe her father wrought all day in the fields--and she curtsied dutifully to the gentry-folk and the beautiful young lady in the riding coat.
"Is this all the welcome I am to get ?" said I, holding out my hand.

"And have you no more memory of old friends ?" "Keep me! wha's this of it ?" she cried, and then, "God's truth, it's the tautit[19] laddie!" "The very same," says I.
"Mony's the time I've thocht upon you and your freen, and blythe am I to see in your braws,"[20] she cried.