“Be thankit, mem, wi’ a’ my hert. Will I gang doon o’ my knees?”
“No. Why should you go on your knees?”
“’Cause ye’re ’maist ower bonny to luik at stan’in’, mem, an’ I’m feared for angerin’ ye.”
“Don’t say ma’am to me.”
“What am I to say, than, mem?—I ask yer pardon, mem.”
“Say my lady. That’s how people speak to me.”
“I thocht ye bude (behoved) to be somebody by ordinar’, my leddy! That’ll be hoo ye’re so terrible bonny,” he returned, with some tremulousness in his tone. “But ye maun put on yer hose, my leddy, or ye’ll get yer feet cauld, and that’s no guid for the likes o’ you.”
The form of address she prescribed, conveyed to him no definite idea of rank. It but added intensity to the notion of her being a lady, as distinguished from one of the women of his own condition in life.
“And pray what is to become of you,” she returned, “with your clothes as wet as water can make them?”
“The saut water kens me ower weel to do me ony ill,” returned the lad. “I gang weet to the skin mony a day frae mornin’ till nicht, and mony a nicht frae nicht till mornin’—at the heerin’ fishin’, ye ken, my leddy.”