LESLIE, LAWSON, MARY, _seated_. BRODIE _at back_, _walking between the windows and strong-box_. LAWSON. Weel, weel, weel, weel, nae doubt. LESLIE. Mr. Lawson, I am perfectly satisfied with Brodie’s word; I will wait gladly. LAWSON. I have nothing to say against that. BRODIE (_behind_ LAWSON). Nor for it. LAWSON. For it? for it, William? Ye’re perfectly richt there. (_To_ LESLIE.) Just you do what William tells you; ye canna do better than that. MARY. Dear uncle, I see you are vexed; but Will and I are perfectly agreed on the best course. Walter and I are young. Oh, we can wait; we can trust each other. BRODIE (_from behind_). Leslie, do you think it safe to keep this strong-box in your room? LESLIE. It does not trouble me. BRODIE. I would not. ’Tis close to the window. LESLIE. It’s on the right side of it. BRODIE. I give you my advice: I would not. LAWSON. He may be right there too, Mr. Leslie. BRODIE. I give him fair warning: it’s not safe LESLIE. I have a different treasure to concern myself about; if all goes right with that I shall be well contented. MARY. Walter! LAWSON. Ay, bairns, ye speak for your age. LESLIE. Surely, sir, for every age; the ties of blood, of love, of friendship, these are life’s essence. MARY. And for no one is it truer than my uncle. If he live to be a thousand, he will still be young in heart, full of love, full of trust. LAWSON. All, lassie, it’s a wicked world. MARY. Yes, you are out of sorts to-day; we know that. LESLIE. Admitted that you know more of life, sir; admitted (if you please) that the world is wicked; yet you do not lose trust in those you love. LAWSON. Weel . . . ye get gliffs, ye ken. LESLIE. I suppose so. We can all be shaken for a time; but not, I think, in our friends. We are not deceived in them; in the few that we admit into our hearts. MARY. Never in these. LESLIE. We know these (_to_ BRODIE), and we think the world of them. BRODIE (_at back_). We are more acquainted with each other’s tailors, believe me. You, Leslie, are a very pleasant creature. My uncle Lawson is the Procurator-Fiscal. I—What am I?—I am the Deacon of the Wrights, my ruffles are generally clean. And you think the world of me? Bravo! LESLIE. Ay, and I think the world of you. BRODIE (_at back_, _pointing to_ LAWSON). Ask him. LAWSON. Hoot-toot. A wheen nonsense: an honest man’s an honest man, and a randy thief’s a randy thief, and neither mair nor less. Mary, my lamb, it’s time you were hame, and had you beauty sleep. MARY. Do you not come with us? LAWSON. I gang the ither gate, my lamb. (LESLIE _helps_ MARY _on with her cloak_, _and they say farewell at back_. BRODIE _for the first time comes front with_ LAWSON.) Sae ye’ve consented? BRODIE. As you see. LAWSON. Ye’ll can pay it back? BRODIE. I will. LAWSON. And how? That’s what I’m wonderin’ to mysel’. BRODIE. Ay, God knows that. MARY. Come, Will. SCENE II