"Who are these two, mother?" I asked, and pointed to the corpses.
"A blessing on your precious face!" she cried. "Twa joes [7] o' mine: just twa o' my old joes, my hinny dear."
WHAT DID THEY SUFFER FOR? I ASKED
[pg 31] "What did they suffer for?" I asked.
"Ou, just for the guid cause," said she. "Aften I spaed to them the way that it would end. Twa shillin' Scots; no pickle mair; and there are twa bonny callants hingin' for 't! They took it frae a wean [8] belanged to Brouchton."
"Ay!" said I to myself, and not to the daft limmer, "and did they come to such a figure for so poor a business? This is to lose all indeed."
"Gie's your loof, [9] hinny," says she, "and let me spae your weird to ye."
"No, mother," said I, "I see far enough the way I am. It's an unco thing to see
