"So, so, you are weary?" said she, supporting herself on her long cane with one hand, while with grim kindness she patted his head with the other. "While ye have been wandering like a fule-bairn between Edinburgh and Stirling, or Gude alane kens where, our tenants have neglected, for the first time in their lives, to bring their Lammas wheat into the barbican, whilk, as you ken, they are bound to send duly tied in a sack to you as their overlord."
"Oh, mother, heed not the Lammas wheat; anon we shall have other things to think of than the collecting of rent or kain."
"Hah!—say you so? Then the news at Edinburgh Cross——"
"Is war?"
"'Tis well! Our men have been turning to women since the fields of Ancrum and Solway. And this war is, of course, anent the marriage of a boy king and a baby queen; a brave matter, truly, for bearded men to fight about!"
"It would seem so; and now I almost begin to agree with the Lord Huntly's view of this coming strife."
"Indeed!" said his mother, with more of scorn than curiosity in her manner; "and what may his view be?"
"That he dislikes not the match."
"The false Highland limmer!" she hissed through her set teeth; "so he dislikes not the match——"
"But hates the manner of wooing."