"It's no sae muckle 'at I'm in a hurry as 'at I maun be duin'."

"Whaur are ye b'un' for, gien a body may speir?"

"I'm gaein' to seek--no my fortin, but my daily breid. Gien I spak
as a richt man, I wad say I was gaein' to luik for the wark set me.
I'm feart to say that straucht oot; I haena won sae far as that
yet. I winna du naething though 'at he wadna hae me du. I daur to
say that--sae be I un'erstan'. My mither says the day 'ill come
whan I'll care for naething but his wull."

"Yer mither 'ill be Janet Grant, I'm thinkin'! There canna be twa
sic in ae country-side!"

"Ye're i' the richt," answered Donal. "Ken ye my mither?"

"I hae seen her; an' to see her 's to ken her."

"Ay, gien wha sees her be sic like 's hersel'."

"I canna preten' to that; but she's weel kent throu' a' the country
for a God-fearin' wuman.--An' whaur 'll ye be for the noo?"

"I'm jist upo' the tramp, luikin' for wark."

"An' what may ye be pleast to ca' wark?"

"Ow, jist the communication o' what I hae the un'erstan'in' o'."

"Aweel, gien ye'll condescen' to advice frae an auld wife, I'll gie