`` Ye neednae tell me , '' she said at last -- `` ye 're gentry . '' `` Well , '' said Alan , softened a little -LRB- I believe against his will -RRB- by this artless comment , `` and suppose we were ? Did ever you hear that gentrice put money in folk 's pockets ? '' She sighed at this , as if she were herself some disinherited great lady . `` No , '' says she , `` that 's true indeed . '' I was all this while chafing at the part I played , and sitting tongue-tied between shame and merriment ; but somehow at this I could hold in no longer , and bade Alan let me be , for I was better already . My voice stuck in my throat , for I ever hated to take part in lies ; but my very embarrassment helped on the plot , for the lass no doubt set down my husky voice to sickness and fatigue . `` Has he nae friends ? '' said she , in a tearful voice . `` That has he so ! '' cried Alan , `` if we could but win to them ! -- friends and rich friends , beds to lie in , food to eat , doctors to see to him -- and here he must tramp in the dubs and sleep in the heather like a beggarman . '' `` And why that ? '' says the lass . `` My dear , '' said Alan , `` I cannae very safely say ; but I 'll tell ye what I 'll do instead , '' says he , `` I 'll whistle ye a bit tune . '' And with that he leaned pretty far over the table , and in a mere breath of a whistle , but with a wonderful pretty sentiment , gave her a few bars of `` Charlie is my darling . '' `` Wheesht , '' says she , and looked over her shoulder to the door . `` That 's it , '' said Alan . `` And him so young ! '' cries the lass .
`` He 's old enough to -- '' and XXXXX struck his forefinger on the back part of his neck , meaning that I was old enough to lose my head .
Alan Wheesht bars beggarman gentrice gentry heather sentiment table throat