'Hoo's a' wi' ye, Mistress Tirpie? It's lang sin we hae forgathered the gither. But I'm aye speerin' after ye; I ken ye're weel!' It's no my bodily health 'at's ailin', Joseph Smiley, but my heart's sair in me, an' ye ken what for.' 'I'm sure, Luckie, I kenna what ye're drivin' at; gin gude will o' mine wad gar ye thrive, ye'se thrive wi' the lave! an' as for sare heart I kenna what there can be to fash ye. But there's balm in Gilead, Mistress Tirpie, take ye yer burden there. I'm but a puir door-keeper in the house of the Lord,--tho' it's better that nor dwellin' in tents o' sin,--juist a puir silly earthen vessel, but I'se testifee sae far. 'Joseph Smiley! Ye twa-faced heepocrit. Hoo daar ye tak the word o' God atween yer leein' lips like that? Are ye no feared the grund will open an' swally ye up?' Fient a fear! Luckie, gin the earth swallied a' body 'at spak unadveesedly wi' their lips, it wad hae a sair wamefu'! There's no mony wad be left stan'in' ower grund. An' I'm misdoubtin' but ye'd no be to the fore yersel', Tibbie. But lay by yer flitin'. Hoo's a' wi' young Tib?' 'An' it sets ye weel, Joseph Smiley, to be speerin' after my puir dautie, after a' 'at's come an' gane. An' ye hae na come naar her this three month come Saubith, for a' the wite ye hae wrocht her.' 'What's the wite, mither? Is she no weel?' 'No weel!--An' ye'll be for no letting on ye ken ocht about it!' 'What wad a ken, Mistress Tirpie? She was aye a fine bit lassie, blythe and bonny as ye'd see in a' the country side, but sin' she gaed awa, naebody kenned whaur, I hae na heard tell o' her ava.' 'Lay by! Joseph Smiley; I ken a' 'at's come an' gane atween ye; she's telled me a'.' 'The saft silly tawpie!' this aside, and under his breath. 'I ken a' about yer guilefu' tongue, an' a' yer pawkie gates. An' think ye I'll haud my whisht, an' see her bear the wite her lane? Ye ken ye swore to marry her.' 'Speak laich, mither; ye dinna ken wha's hearkenin'. They hae lang lugs 'at travel after dark.' 'Ye ken it's true! Joseph Smiley. Ye took yer Bible aith, an' ye beut to keep it. Wha's fraickin' tongue but yours has played a' the mischief? She gaed awa' at yer biddin', an' the bairn's left there, an' naebody kens wha's acht it. But the matter canna bide sae, an' ye'se beut to mak' a decent woman o' her noo. An' a gude wife she'll mak ye, an' a faithfu' whan a's done.' 'Speak laich, woman! An' bide a wee. (The deil's in the wife! the way her tongue rins). Oh Mistress Tirpie! I'm bund till own it was ill my pairt to do as I did; but the best o' us wull gang astray whiles. King Dawvit himself, tho' I wadna be sae presumptious as even mysel' wi' the like o' him, gaed ance wrang amang the lasses, but he made it a' richt belive; an' sae aiblins wull I. But it taks time--we maun bide a wee.' 'An' what's to come o' Tibbie or than?'