"Ay, but the layin' o' the fundation belangs to me. An' I'll no
du't till I can du't ohn ruint my sister."
"Weel, there's ae thing clear: ye'll never ken what to do sae lang's
ye hing on aboot a stable, fu' o' fower fittet animals wantin'
sense--an' some twa fittet 'at has less."
"I doobt ye're richt there, mem; and gien I cud but tak puir Kelpie
awa' wi' me--"
"Hoots! I'm affrontit wi ye. Kelpie--quo he! Preserve's a'! The
laad 'ill lat his ain sister gang, an' bide at hame wi' a mere!"
Malcolm held his peace.
"Ay, I'm thinkin' I maun gang," he said at length.
"Whaur till, than?" asked Miss Horn.
"Ow! to Lon'on--whaur ither?"
"And what'll yer lordship du there?"
"Dinna say lordship to me, mem, or I'll think ye're jeerin' at me.
What wad the caterpillar say," he added, with a laugh, "gien ye
ca'd her my leddie Psyche?"
Malcolm of course pronounced the Greek word in Scotch fashion.
"I ken naething aboot yer Seechies or yer Sukies," rejoined Miss
Horn. "I ken 'at ye're bun' to be a lord and no a stableman, an'
I s' no lat ye rist till ye up an' say what neist?"
"It's what I ha'e been sayin' for the last three month," said
Malcolm.
"Ay, I daursay; but ye ha'e been sayin' 't upo' the braid o' yer
back, and I wad ha'e ye up an' sayin' 't."
"Gien I but kent what to du!" said Malcolm, for the thousandth
time.
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