"I'm only sixteen," she returned, laughing merrily.

"What will ye be or ye behaud!" he exclaimed, after a brief pause
of astonishment.

"Do you ever dance in this part of the country?" she asked, heedless
of his surprise.

"No that muckle, at least amo' the fisherfowks, excep' it be at a
weddin'. I was at ane last nicht."

"And did you dance?"

"'Deed did I, my leddy. I danced the maist o' the lasses clean aff
o' their legs."

"What made you so cruel?"

"Weel, ye see, mem,--I mean my leddy,--fowk said I was ill
aboot the bride; an' sae I bude to dance 't oot o' their heids."

"And how much truth was there in what they said?" she asked, with
a sly glance up in the handsome, now glowing face.

"Gien there was ony, there was unco little," he replied. "The
chield's walcome till her for me. But she was the bonniest lassie
we had.--It was what we ca' a penny weddin'," he went on, as if
willing to change the side of the subject.

"And what's a penny wedding?"