"I dinna see what ye hae to lauch at!" she said, laughing too.
"Ye'll be dottlet yersel' gien ye live lang eneuch!"

"I'm thinkin'," said Andrew, "but I dinna ken--'at it maun be a
man's ain wyte gien age maks him dottlet. Gien he's aye been
haudin' by the trowth, I dinna think he'll fin' the trowth, hasna
hauden by him.--But what I was lauchin' at was the thoucht o'
onybody bein' auld up there. We'll a' be yoong there, lass!"

"It sall be as the Lord wulls," returned his wife.

"It sall. We want nae mair; an' eh, we want nae less!" responded
her husband.

So the evening wore away. The talk was to the very mind of Donal,
who never loved wisdom so much as when she appeared in peasant-garb.
In that garb he had first known her, and in the form of his mother.

"I won'er," said Doory at length, "'at yoong Eppy 's no puttin' in
her appearance! I was sure o' her the nicht: she hasna been near 's
a' the week!"

The cobbler turned to Donal to explain. He would not talk of things
their guest did not understand; that would be like shutting him out
after taking him in!

"Yoong Eppy 's a gran'child, sir--the only ane we hae. She's a weel
behavet lass, though ta'en up wi' the things o' this warl' mair nor
her grannie an' me could wuss. She's in a place no far frae