"
"He provokes me the w'y that he speaks to ye, father--him 'at's no fit to
tie the thong o' your shee!"
"The Maister would lat him tie his, and say _thank ye_!"
"It aye seems to me he has sic a scrimpit way o' believin'! It's no like
believin' at a'! He winna trust him for naething that he hasna his ain
word, or some ither body's for! Ca' ye that lippenin' til him?"
It was now the father's turn to be silent for a moment. Then he said,--
"Lea' the judgin' o' him to his ain maister, lassie. I ha'e seen him whiles
sair concernt for ither fowk."
"'At they wouldna hand wi' _him,_ and war condemnt in consequence--wasna
that it?"
"I canna answer ye that, bairn."
"Weel, I ken he doesna like you--no ae wee bit. He's aye girdin at ye to
ither fowk!"
"May be: the mair's the need I sud lo'e him."
"But noo _can_ ye, father?"
"There's naething, o' late, I ha'e to be sae gratefu' for to _Him_ as that
I can. But I confess I had lang to try sair!"
"The mair I was to try, the mair I jist couldna.
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