An’ wha think you was in company wi’ Kate the bride, but the wee button of a taylor, who sat and sewed on a table, cocking like a t--d on a trencher, but when he kend wha was com’d he leaped down on the floor, custe a dash o’ pride like a little bit prince, he bobet about, and so out he goes with the tear in his eye, and his tail between his feet like a haff worried colly-dog.
_Sawny._ Now Katty do ye ken what I’m com’d about?
_Kate._ O yes my mither tell’d me, but I’m no ready yet, I have twa gowns to spin, and things to mak.[48]
_Sawny._ Hute, things to mak, ye have as mony things as ye’ll need woman, canna ye spin gowns in your ain house wi’ me, as right as here wi’ an auld girning mither?
_Kate._ But dear Saunders, ye must give a body time to think on’t, ’twad be ill far’d to rush together just at the first.
_Sawny._ And do ye think I have naething a-do, but come here every other day hoiting after you? it’ll no do, I maun be either aff wi’ you or on wi’ you, either tell me or tak me, for I ken of other twa, and some o’ you I will hae, for as I’m a sinner my mither is gawn to be married too, an’ she can get a bit man of ony shape or trade.
_Kate._ Indeed then Saunders, since you’re in such a haste, you must e’en tak them that’s readiest, for am no ready yet.
_Sawny._ Dear woman whan your mither an’ my mither’s pleas’d, am willing to venture on ye, what a sorrow ails you?
_Kate._ Na, na I’ll think on’t twa or three days; it’s o’er lang a term to see without a thought.
_Sawny._ Wode I think ye’re a cumstrarie piece o’ stuff, it’s true enough your mither said o’ ye, that ye’re no for a poor man.
_Sawny._ Wode she said you could do naething but scure wash mugs, an’ gentlemen’s bonny things, but hissies it is bred amang gentle houses, minds me o’ my mither’s cat, but ye’r far costlier to keep, for the cat wastes neither saep nor water, but spits in her lufe and washes ay at her face, and whins o’ you can do nae ither thing, and up he gets.
_Kate._ O Saunders but ye be short, will ye no stay till my mither come hame?
_Sawny._ I stay’d long enough for any thing I’ll be the better; and am no sae short as your totum of a taylor it I cou’d stap it my shoe, sae cou’d I e’en.
Hame he goes in a passion, and to his bed he ran crying, O death, death! I thought the jade wad jumpet at me; no comfort nor happiness mair for poor me. O mither gar make my burial bread, for I’ll die this night or soon the morn.[49] But early next morning in comes auld _Be-go_ his good mither, who had left her daughter in tears for the slighting o’ Sawny; and haules him and his mither away to get a dinner of dead fish, where a’ was agreed upon, the wedding to be upon Wednesday; no bridal fouks but the twa mithers and themselves twa.