She would even dazzle a little, if one looked at
her too hard. Sho could not dazzle Tibbie though, who was seated with
Annie on the pale green grass, with the moon about them in the air and
beneath them in the water.
"Ye say it's a fine munelicht nicht, Annie."
"Ay, 'deed is't. As bonnie a nicht as ever I saw."
"Weel, it jist passes my comprehension--hoo ye can see, whan the air's
like this. I' the winter ye canna see, for it's aye cauld whan the
sun's awa; and though it's no cauld the nicht, I fin' that there's no
licht i' the air--there's a differ; it's deid-like. But the soun' o'
the water's a' the same, and the smell o' some o' the flowers is
bonnier i' the nicht nor i' the day. That's a' verra weel. But hoo ye
can see whan the sun's awa, I say again, jist passes my comprehension."
"It's the mune, ye ken, Tibbie."
"Weel, what's the mune? I dinna fin' 't. It mak's no impress upo'
me.--Ye _canna_ see sae weel's ye say, lass!" exclaimed Tibbie, at
length, in a triumph of incredulity and self assertion.
"Weel, gin ye winna believe me o' yer ain free will, Tibbie, I maun
jist gar ye," said Annie. And she rose, and running into the cottage,
fetched from it a small pocket Bible.
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