"Ou, I'se warrant ye'll be after Bell," said Eppie.
"Am no sae sure o' that," said Sam'l, trying to leer. He was enjoying
himself now.
"Am no sure o' that," he repeated, for Eppie seemed lost in stitches.
"Sam'l!"
"Ay."
"Ye'll be speerin' her sune noo, I dinna doot?"
This took Sam'l, who had only been courting Bell for a year or two, a
little aback.
"Hoo d' ye mean, Eppie?" he asked.
"Maybe ye'll do 't the nicht."
"Na, there's nae hurry," said Sam'l.
"Weel, we're a' coontin' on 't, Sam'l."
"Gae 'wa' wi' ye."
"What for no?"
"Gae 'wa' wi' ye," said Sam'l again.
"Bell's gei an' fond o' ye, Sam'l."
"Ay," said Sam'l.
"But am dootin' ye're a fell billy wi' the lasses."
"Ay, oh, I d'na kin; moderate, moderate," said Sam'l, in high delight.
"I saw ye," said Eppie, speaking with a wire in her mouth, "gaein' on
terr'ble wi' Mysy Haggart at the pump last Saturday."
"We was juist amoosin' oorsel's," said Sam'l.
"It'll be nae amoosement to Mysy," said Eppie, "gin ye brak her heart."
"Losh, Eppie," said Sam'l, "I didna think o' that."
"Ye maun kin weel, Sam'l, 'at there's mony a lass wid jump at ye.
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