Jeems; "altho' this auld pump's hardly the kind o' wall
they had in thae days. I hope there's nae horn-gollochs aboot it."

"There's twal o'clock," said Ribekka; "we'll need to be goin'.
Gude-nicht, Jeems. See an' mind aboot me. Gude-nicht."

"Gude-nicht, my ain bonnie lassie," Jeems harken'd in till her. "Dinna
be feared o' me forgettin' ye. I never lift a shuffle o' coals but, I
think I see your face. Every puff o' the engine brings me in mind o'
ye, Ribekka; an' when I sit doon to tak' my denner, I lat fa' my flagon
whiles, I'm that taen up thinkin' aboot ye."

"Eh, Jeems, you're codin' me noo! But gude-night! Eh, mind ye, it's
Sabbath mornin'."

"Gude-nicht, my bonnie lassie. Oh, Ribekka, you're sweeter gin heather
honey. I wiss Sint Tammas Market was here, an' we'll be nae langer twa
but wan. My bonnie dooie! Gude-nicht, my ain scentit geranum," says
Jeems.

I began to be akinda waumish, d'ye ken. The haivers o' the two spooney
craturs juist garred me feel like's I'd taen a fizzy drink or
something. You ken what I mean--the kind o' a' ower kittlie feelin'
that's like to garr you screech, ye dinna ken hoo.

"Gude-nicht, Jeems," says Beek again. "I'll never luve onybody but
you."

"Are your shure?" began the auld ass again; an' me stanin' near frozen
to death wi' cauld, an' cudna get oot o' the bit.

"Never!" said Beek; "never!"

"Gude-nicht, than, dearie, an' see an' no' forget me. Will ye no'?"

"Ye needna be feared, Jeems. I luve you alone, an' nae ither body i'
the wide, wide world. Gude-nicht, my Jeemie."

"Gude-nicht, than, Ribekka, luvie. An' if you dinna forget----"

But this was ower muckle for me; so I juist roared oot, "Gude-nicht, ye
haiverin' eedeits," as heich as I cud yawl, an' up the yaird at what I
cud flee.

Sandy was beddit on the back o' ten o'clock, an' he was snorin' like a
dragoon when I gaed up the stair. But when I got anower he jamp up a'
o' a sudden, like's he'd gotten a fleg.

"Keep me, Bawbie, whaur i' the face o' the earth hae you been?" he
says, wi' his een stanin' in's heid, an' drawin' in his breath like's a
shooer o' cauld water had been skootit aboot him. "You've shurely been
awa' at the whalin'. Bless me, your feet's as cauld's an iceikle.
Keep them awa' frae me."

Isn't that juist like thae men? Weemin can beat them in mony weys, I
admit; but, for doonricht selfishness, come your wa's!

XV.

SANDY MAKES A SPEECH.

There's been