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 "It's no a thing to be spoken o', but a thing to be dune," replied the persevering damsel.

"We'll see about that, my bonny Jenny," and the soldier resumed his march, humming as he walked to and fro along the gallery,

"So ye're no thinking to let us in, Mr Halliday? Weel, weel—gude e'en to you—ye hae seen the last o' me, and o' this bonny-dye too," said Jenny, holding between her finger and thumb a silver dollar.

"Give him gold, give him gold," whispered the agitated young lady.

"Silver's e'en ower gude for the like o' him, that disna care for the blink o' a bonny lassie's e'e—and what's waur, he