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MacDonald, George, 1824-1905

"Malcolm"


"De'il ane o' them, my Lord; but I wad hae him no trouble the likes
o' me 'at fesses the fish to your lordship's brakwast: sic 's no
like to be efter mischeef."
"There is some glimmer of sense in what you say," returned his
lordship. "But you know it won't do to let anybody that pleases
get over the park walls. Why didn't you go out at the gate?"
"The burn was atween me an' hit, an' it's a lang road roon'."
"Well, I must lay some penalty upon you, to deter others," said
the marquis.
"Verra well, my lord. Sae lang 's it's fair, I s' bide it ohn
grutten (without weeping)."
"It shan't be too hard. It's just this--to give John Bykes the
thrashing he deserves, as soon as you're out of sight of the House."
"Na, na, my lord; I canna do that," said Malcolm.
"So you're afraid of him, after all!"
"Feared at Johnnie Bykes, my lord! Ha! ha!"
"You threatened him a minute ago, and now, when I give you leave
to thrash him, you decline the honour!"
"The disgrace, my lord. He's an aulder man, an' no abune half the
size. But fegs! gien he says anither word agen my gran'father, I
will gin 's neck a bit thaw"
"Well, well, be off with you both," said the marquis rising.
No one heard the rustle of Lady Florimel's dress as she sped up the
stair, thinking with herself how very odd it was to have a secret
with a fisherman; for a secret it was, seeing the reticence of
Malcolm had been a relief to her; when she shrunk from what seemed
the imminent mention of her name in the affair before the servants.


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