I swither, Davie." "Time flies, Alan," said I.
"I ken that," said Alan.

"I ken naething else, as the French folk say.
But this is a dreidful case of heids or tails.

O! if I could but ken where your gentry were!" "Alan," said I, "this is no like you.

It's got to be now or never." "This is no me, quo' he," sang Alan, with a queer face betwixt shame and drollery.
"Neither you nor me, quo' he, neither you nor me, Wow, na, Johnnie man! neither you nor me." And then of a sudden he stood straight up where he was, and with a handkerchief flying in his right hand, marched down upon the beach.

I stood up myself, but lingered behind him, scanning the sandhills to the east.