It's like readin' wi' fower een, that!"
"And what do you read on such occasions?" carelessly drawled his
persecutor.
"Whiles ae thing an' whiles anither--whiles onything I can lay my
han's upo'. I like traivels an' sic like weel eneuch; an' history,
gien it be na ower dry like. I div not like sermons, an' there's
mair o' them in Portlossie than onything ither. Mr Graham--that's
the schoolmaister--has a gran' libbrary, but it's maist Laitin an'
Greek, an' though I like the Laitin weel, it's no what I wad read
i' the face o' the sea. When ye're in dreid o' wantin' a dictionar',
that spiles a'."
"Can you read Latin then?"
"Ay: what for no, my leddy? I can read Virgil middlin'; an' Horace's
Ars Poetica, the whilk Mr Graham says is no its richt name ava, but
jist Epistola ad Pisones; for gien they bude to gie 't anither it
sud ha' been Ars Dramatica. But leddies dinna care aboot sic things."
"You gentlemen give us no chance. You won't teach us."
"Noo, my leddy, dinna begin to mak' ghem o' me, like my lord. I
cud ill bide it frae him, an' gien ye tak till 't as weel, 1 maun
jist haud oot o' yer gait. I'm nae gentleman, an' hae ower muckle
respeck for what becomes a gentleman to be pleased at bein' ca'd
ane. But as for the Laitin, I'll be prood to instruck yer leddyship
whan ye please."
"I'm afraid I've no great wish to learn," said Florimel.
"I daur say no," said Malcolm quietly, and again addressed himself
to go.
"Do you like novels?" asked the girl.
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