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How art thou, Jessie?

Well, an' please your honour.

I hear thou hast become a Highland lass; But, if thou really like the Lowlands better, Thy native country, tell me honestly: I'll make thy husband, whomsoe'er thou choose, A freeman of this town. If he have brains. And some few marks beside, he'll thrive upon it.

I thank you, Sir; his marks are few indeed.

Well, never mind; let us but have the brains, And we will make the best of it.—Poor Jessie! I well remember thee a barefoot girl, With all thy yellow hair bound in a snood. Thy father too.

Do you remember him?

Yes, Saunders Fairlie. Better man than Saunders In factory or warehouse never bustled.