The instant she saw them she tumbled off her perch, and before they had got the door opened was half way to it, crying, "Dooie! Dooie!" Another instant and she was lifted high in Dowie's arms.
"My little mistress!" exclaimed he, kissing her.

"Hoo cam ye here ?" "I'm safe eneuch here, Dooie; dinna be fleyt.

I'll tell ye a' aboot it.
Alec's in George Macwha's shop yonner." "And wha's Alec ?" asked Dowie.
Leaving them now to their private communications, I will relate, for the sake of its result, what passed between James Dow's companion and the smith.
"The last time," said the youth, "that ye set my sock, Peter Whaup, ye turned it oot jist as saft's potty, and it wore oot raither suner." "Hoot! man, ye mistak.

It wasna the sock.

It was the heid that cam' ahin' 't, and kentna hoo to haud it aff o' the stanes." "Ha! ha! ha! My heid's nae sae saft's yer ain.