'Suppose, now, you had been me, Duncan, what would you have done?' said Hollyhock suddenly.
'Why, gone to Ardshiel, of course.'
'Duncan, I hate you. You 're another traitor.'
'No, I'm no,' said Duncan; 'but I ken what's richt, and I ken what's wrang, and when a little lass chooses betwixt and between, why, I says to myself, says I, "Halt a wee, and the cantie lass'll come round," says I. Shall I take the dogs or no, Miss Hollyhock?'
'Yes, take them; I don't want them,' said Hollyhock.
'The poor maister, he's that loaded wi' work.— Come away, doggies; come away.— Guid-nicht to ye, missie; guid-nicht. Bed's the richt place for ye. I 'm sorry that Magsie 's no here to cuddle ye a bit.'
'Thanks; I'm glad she's gone. I hate her,' said Hollyhock.
'Ay,' said the old man, coming close to the child and looking into her eyes. 'Isn't it a wee bit o' the de'il ye hae in ye the nicht, wi' your talkin' o' hatin' them that luves ye!—Come, doggies; come. My poor beasties, ye 'll want your rest; and there's no place like bed for missie hersel'.'
'You 'd best go to your own bed, too, Duncan,' called Hollyhock after him. 'You are a very impertinent old man, and getting past your work.'
'Past my work, am I, now? Aweel, ye 'll see! Guid-nicht, miss. I bear no malice, although I pity the poor maister.'