CHAPTER LXI.
MISS HORN AND THE PIPER.
When Miss Horn bethought herself that night, in prospect of returning home the next day, that she had been twice in the company of the laird and had not even thought of asking him about Phemy, she reproached herself not a little; and it was with shame that she set out, immediately on her arrival, to tell Malcolm that she had seen him. No one at the House being able to inform her where he was at the moment, she went on to Duncan’s cottage. There she found the piper, who could not tell her where his boy was, but gave her a hearty welcome, and offered her a cup of tea, which, as it was now late in the afternoon, Miss Horn gladly accepted. As he bustled about to prepare it, refusing all assistance from his guest, he began to open his mind to her on a subject much in his thoughts —namely, Malcolm’s inexplicable aversion to Mrs Stewart.
“Ta nem of Stewart will pe a nople worrt, mem,” he said.
“It’s guid eneuch to ken a body by,” answered Miss Horn.
“If ta poy will pe a Stewart,” he went on, heedless of the indifference of her remark, “who’ll pe knowing put he’ll may pe of ta plood royal!”
“There didna leuk to be muckle royalty aboot auld John, honest man, wha cudna rule a wife, though he had but ane!” returned Miss Horn.
“If you’ll please, mem, ton’t you’ll pe too sherp on ta poor man whose wife will not pe ta coot wife. If ta wife will pe ta paad wife, she will pe ta paad wife however, and ta poor man will pe hafing ta paad wife and ta paad plame of it too, and tat will pe more as ’ll pe fair, mem.”
“’Deed ye never said a truer word, Maister MacPhail!” assented Miss Horn. “It’s a mercy ’at a lone wuman like me, wha has a maisterfu’ temper o’ her ain, an’ nae feelin’s, was never putten to the temptation o’ occkypeein’ sic a perilous position. I doobt gien auld John had been merried upo’ me, I micht hae putten on the wrang claes some mornin’ mysel’, an’ may be had ill gettin’ o’ them aff again.”
The old man was silent, and Miss Horn resumed the main subject of their conversation.
“But though he michtna objec’ till a father ’at he wasna jist Hector or Golia’ o’ Gath,” she said, “ye canna wonner ’at the yoong laad no carin’ to hae sic a mither.”