"I'm in a fine mood to have ye whipped from my doors, ye shameless . . ."
"Ay, shameless, madam, if I love I'll be that, but if I have a man I'll share him wi' nane, and you'll not be yourself to be believing these false tales; and you, Betty, I had thought ye had seen sorrow enough without brimming your cup over. It's true I left a wean sleeping in the sweet hay; was there harm in that? She's lain wi' me in the stable lofts and outlying barns these many nights, but the wean is nane o' mine. It's an ill bird that fouls its ain nest, Betty, and when a' the auld wives are shakin' their mutches at the end o' peat stacks and sayin', 'This'll be another o' his; ye might have asked yourself how? The poor wee mitherless mite; her feet will be on the neck o' her enemies, and, mistress, maybe I can tell ye why. I hinna leed tae ye yet, and ye can whip me from your doors if ye will, but hard, hard will it fa' on them that raise the scourge."
Such a look passed between these two, so full of meaning, that my aunt told Betty to leave her.
"And keep better manners among your wenches," said she, "for I will not have Dan tormented with the baggage; and tell him I hope my son will grow tall and strong like him, for I will be mindful of his kindness."
"Indeed, indeed, he would be very good, my dearie," cried Betty, anxious to make amends. "When ye were taken ill he lay in the kitchen the lang night through, and his horse saddled and bridled ready in his stall; ay, and he would not go to bed for the Laird himsel'. Indeed, many a wild night he galloped through, and him oot in the morning when the doctor had left."
Belle had slipped out as the old woman was speaking, and now came back with her tartan bundle; and when Betty had left the room the gipsy took from the shawl a wean that cried so lustily that it wakened the heir to all Nourn.
As the women whispered and crooned over the bairns, their cries resounded through the house, and made it no place for men-folk.
But crossing the yard, Betty beckoned me with a crooked forefinger.
"Who's wean is that, think ye, Hamish, that Belle brought here?"
"I think you should be asking Belle," said I.