"Wha sud say 't but the lassie hersel'?" answered Miss Horn simply.
"She maun hae the best richt to say wha's wha."
"It wad better become anybody but her," said Malcolm.
"What mean ye there, laddie?" cried Miss Horn, alarmed.
"'At nane cud ken sae weel 's hersel' it was a damned lee. Wha is
she?"
"Wha but Meg Partan's Lizzy!"
"Puir lassie! is that it?--Eh, but I'm sorry for her! She never
said it was me. An' whaever said it, surely ye dinna believe 't o'
me, mem?"
"Me believe 't! Malcolm MacPhail, wull ye daur insult a maiden
wuman 'at's stude clear o' reproch till she's lang past the danger
o' 't? It's been wi' unco sma' diffeeclety, I maun alloo, for I
haena been led into ony temptation!"
"Eh, mem!" returned Malcolm, perceiving by the flash of her eyes
and the sudden halt of her speech that she was really indignant--
"I dinna ken what I hae said to anger ye!"
"Anger me! quo' he? What though I hae nae feelin's! Will he daur till
imaigine 'at he wad be sittin' there, an' me haudin' him company,
gien I believed him cawpable o' turnin' oot sic a meeserable,
contemptible wratch! The Lord come atween me an' my wrath!"
"I beg yer pardon, mem. A body canna aye put things thegither afore
he speyks. I 'm richt sair obleeged till ye for takin' my pairt."
"I tak naebody's pairt but my ain, laddie. Obleeged to me for
haein' a wheen common sense--a thing 'at I was born wi'! Toots!
Dinna haiver."
"Weel, mem, what wad ye hae me du? I canna sen' my auld daddie
roon the toon wi' his pipes, to procleem 'at I'm no the man.
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