He's terrible independent; an' what wi' his pipes, an' his lamps,
an' his shop, he could keep's baith. It's no muckle the likes o'
us wants. He winna lat me gang far to the fishin', so that I hae
the mair time to read an' gang to Mr Graham."
As the youth spoke, the marquis eyed him with apparently growing
interest.
"But you haven't told me whether your boat is a proper one," said
the lady.
"Proper eneuch, mem, for what's required o' her. She taks guid
fish."
"But is it a proper boat for me to have a row in?"
"No wi' that goon on, mem, as I telled ye afore."
"The water won't get in, will it?"
"No more than's easy gotten oot again."
"Do you ever put up a sail?"
"Whiles--a wee bit o' a lug sail."
"Nonsense, Flow!" said the marquis. "I'll see about it."
Then turning to Malcolm,--"You may go," he said. "When I want
you I will send for you."
Malcolm thought with himself that he had sent for him this time
before he wanted him; but he made his bow, and departed--not
without disappointment, for he had expected the marquis to say
something about his grandfather going to the House with his pipes,
a request he would fain have carried to the old man to gladden his
heart withal.
Lord Lossie had been one of the boon companions of the Prince of
Wales--considerably higher in type, it is true, yet low enough
to accept usage for law, and measure his obligation by the custom
of his peers: duty merely amounted to what was expected of him, and
honour, the flitting shadow of the garment of truth, was his sole
divinity.
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