The day was now hot, and the shadow of the tree inviting.
He had but seated himself when a woman came to the door of the cottage, looked at him for a moment, and probably thinking him, from his bare feet, poorer than he was, said-- "Wad ye like a drink ?" "Ay, wad I," answered Donal, "-- a drink o' watter, gien ye please." "What for no milk ?" asked the woman.
"'Cause I'm able to pey for 't," answered Donal.
"I want nae peyment," she rejoined, perceiving his drift as little as probably my reader.
"An' I want nae milk," returned Donal.
"Weel, ye may pey for 't gien ye like," she rejoined.
"But I dinna like," replied Donal.
"Weel, ye're a some queer customer!" she remarked.
"I thank ye, but I'm nae customer, 'cep' for a drink o' watter," he persisted, looking in her face with a smile; "an' watter has aye been gratis sin' the days o' Adam--'cep' maybe i' toons i' the het pairts o' the warl'." The woman turned into the cottage, and came out again presently with a delft basin, holding about a pint, full of milk, yellow and rich.
"There!" she said; "drink an' be thankfu'." "I'll be thankfu' ohn drunken," said Donal.

"I thank ye wi' a' my heart.

But I canna bide to tak for naething what I can pey for, an' I dinna like to lay oot my siller upon a luxury I can weel eneuch du wantin', for I haena muckle.

I wadna be shabby nor yet greedy." "Drink for the love o' God," said the woman.
Donal took the bowl from her hand, and drank till all was gone.
"Wull ye hae a drap mair ?" she asked.
"Na, no a drap," answered Donal.

"I'll gang i' the stren'th o' that ye hae gi'en me--maybe no jist forty days, gudewife, but mair nor forty minutes, an' that's a gude pairt o' a day.