The remark being a general one, Malcolm cannot be much blamed if he stood with one foot lifted to hear Florimel’s reply.
“If it’s an ill-baked one, papa,” she returned, “I think it would be better to cut as small a piece of it as will serve for immediate use.”
Malcolm was delighted with her answer, never thinking whether it came from her head or her heart, for the two were at one in himself.
As soon as he appeared on the other side of the rock, the marquis challenged him: “Who goes there?” he said.
“Malcolm MacPhail, my lord.”
“You rascal!” said his lordship, good-humouredly; “you’ve been listening!”
“No muckle, my lord. I heard but a word a-piece. An’ I maun say my leddy had the best o’ the loagic.”
“My lady generally has, I suspect,” laughed the marquis. “How long have you been in the rock there?”
“No ae meenute, my lord. I flang aff my butes to rin efter a freen’, an’ that’s hoo ye didna hear me come up. I’m gaein’ efter them noo, to gang hame i’ them. Guid nicht, my lord. Guid nicht, my leddy.”
He turned and pursued his way; but Florimel’s face, glimmering through the night, went with him as he ran.