“There’s no fear o’ yersel’, my leddy. Ye’re ower weel made to blaud (spoil). But wae’s me for the goon or (before) it had been an hoor i’ the boat the day!—no to mention the fish comin’ walopin’ ower the gunnel ane efter the ither. But ’deed I maun say good mornin’, mem!”
“By all means. I don’t want to keep you a moment from your precious fish.”
Feeling rebuked, without well knowing why, Malcolm accepted the dismissal, and ran to his boat. By the time he had taken his oars, the girl had vanished.
His line was a short one; but twice the number of fish he wanted were already hanging from the hooks. It was still very early when he reached the harbour. At home he found his grandfather waiting for him, and his breakfast ready.
It was hard to convince Duncan that he had waked the royal burgh a whole hour too soon. He insisted that, as he had never made such a blunder before, he could not have made it now.
“It’s ta watch ’at’ll pe telling ta lies, Malcolm, my poy,” he said thoughtfully. “She was once pefore.”
“But the sun says the same ’s the watch, daddy,” persisted Malcolm.
Duncan understood the position of the sun and what it signified, as well as the clearest-eyed man in Port Lossie, but he could not afford to yield.
“It was peing some conspeeracy of ta cursit Cawmills, to make her loss her poor pension,” he said. “Put nefer you mind, Malcolm; I’ll pe making up for ta plunder ta morrow mornin’. Ta coot peoples shall haf teir sleeps a whole hour after tey ought to be at teir works.”