“Ye’ll no get yer string o’ beads in time for the weddin’, Phemy,” remarked Malcolm, going on to talk from a desire to give the child a feeling of his friendliness.
“Ay will I—fine that,” she rejoined.
“Whan is ’t to be?”
“Ow, neist Setterday. Ye’ll be comin’ ower?”
“I haena gotten a call.”
“Ye’ll be gettin’ ane.”
“Div ye think they’ll gie me ane?”
“As sune ’s onybody.—Maybe by that time I’ll be able to gie ye some news o’ the laird.”
“There’s a guid lassie!”
“Na, na; I’m makin’ nae promises,” said Phemy.