“None of your impudence!” returned the factor. “The marquis is not here to uphold you in your follies. That they amused him is no reason why I should put up with them. So keep your tongue between your teeth, or you’ll find it the worse for you.”
The youth smiled a little oddly, and held his peace.
“You’re here to do what I tell you, and make no remarks,” added the factor.
“I’m awaur o’ that, sir—within certain leemits,” returned Malcolm.
“What do you mean by that?”
“I mean within the leemits o’ duin’ by yer neibor as ye wad ha’e yer neibor du by you—that’s what I mean, sir.”
“I’ve told you already that doesn’t apply in horse-dealing. Every man has to take care of himself in the horse-market: that’s understood. If you had been brought up amongst horses instead of herring, you would have known that as well as any other man.”
“I doobt I’ll ha’e to gang back to the herrin’ than, sir, for they’re like to pruv’ the honester o’ the twa. But there’s nae hypocrisy in Kelpie, an’ she maun ha’e her day’s denner, come o’ the morn’s what may.”
At the word hypocrisy, Mr Crathie’s face grew red as the sun in a fog. He was an elder of the kirk, and had family worship every night as regularly as his toddy. So the word was as offensive and insolent as it was foolish and inapplicable. He would have turned Malcolm adrift on the spot, but that he remembered—not the favour of the late marquis for the lad—that was nothing to the factor now: his lord under the mould was to him as if he had never been above it—but the favour of the present marchioness, for all in the house knew that she was interested in him. Choking down therefore his rage and indignation, he said sternly:
“Malcolm, you have two enemies—a long tongue, and a strong conceit. You have little enough to be proud of, my man, and the less said the better. I advise you to mind what you’re about, and show suitable respect to your superiors, or as sure as judgment, you’ll go back to fish-guts.”