se till her, an' sortit the bairn. Puir cratur, she ac'ually grat
when I gae her the bits o' things for the litlan; an' tell'd me to
thank ye. She was terriple taen up when I said you wasna able to be up
the day, an' howps ye'll be better gin the morn."

"I think I'm better, but I'm awfu' licht i' the heid yet," says Bawbie.
"Ye micht get the pen an' ink, Sandy, an' send a scart or twa to thae
prenter bodies. Juist say I've taen a kind o' a dwam, but that I'll
likely be a' richt again in a day or twa. An' see an' watch your
spellin'. Gin ony o' the wirds are like to beat ye, juist speer at me,
an' I'll gie ye a hand wi' them."

"A' richt than, Bawbie; I'll do that," says I. "Noo, juist try an' get
a sleep for a whilie, an' I'll go ben to the shop dask an' write a
scrift for you."

So noo when I have the chance, I'll better juist mention that Bawbie
got terriple seek i' the forenicht yesterday, an' she hardly ever
steekit an e'e a' lest nicht. An' nether did I, for that pairt o't,
for she byochy-byochied awa' the feck o' the nicht, an' I cudna get
fa'in' ower. But I didna say onything, for I doot I'm to blame,
although I've never lutten dab that I jaloosed ony thing had happened.

Bawbie was juist gaen awa' to hae her efternune cup yesterday, an' I
was chappin' oot the dottle o' my pipe on the corner o' the chumla,
when it flaw oot an' gaed oot o' sicht some wey. I socht heich an'
laich for't, but na, na; it wasna to be gotten. I thocht syne it had
gane into the fire. But it's my opinion noo, it had fa'in' into
Bawbie's teapot! She was sayin' ilky noo-an'-than, "That tea has a
dispert queer taste, Sandy. What can be the maitter wi't?" I never
took thocht; but when Bawbie fell seek, an' groo as white's a penny
lafe, thinks I to mysel', "That's your dottle, Sandy Bowden!" But I
never lut wink; for, keep me, if Bawbie had kent, I micht as weel gane
awa' an' sleepit on the Sands for the next twa-three nichts. She's a
gude-heartit budy; but, man, she gets intil an awfu' pavey whiles, an'
she's nether to hand nor to bind when she gets raised. But, for ony
sake, dinna lat on I was sayin' onything.

Bawbie's an awfu' cratur to tell fowk aboot me an' my ongaens. Weel,
there's a lot o' truth in what she says, I maun admit; altho' she mak's
a heap o' din juist aboot twa-three kyowows, noo-an'-than. I dinna ken
hoo it is ava', I canna help mysel' sometimes. Man, the daftest-like
ideas tak' a haud o' me while