"'Ay, if ye mean the warst,' said Sandy. 'But to come to the point at ance—I'm sent here, Willie, by Mr Darsy—although I ken weel it's a fruitless errand—to tell ye that yer horses hae turned oot to be no worth their hides; that yer black ane has changed to a dirty grey wi' a shower o' rain, and is dead lame; and that the brown ane'll neither work in plough nor cart.'
"'Dear me, Sandy, ye surprise me!' replied Willie, with a look of amazement as like the genuine as it was possible for any man to assume.
"'Maybe I do,' said Sandy; 'but I hardly believe it. However, this being the case, my master has sent me to say that he expects you'll refund him the siller, as ye promised, or find him ither twa horses worth the amount, in their stead.'
"'Whee-ee-ee-ou!' whistled Willie. 'Is that the next o't? Weel, I didna think your maister was sae unreasonable a man as that comes to, Sandy; but there's a heap o' queer folk in this world.'
"'My feth! there's that,' said the latter; 'and some o' them no far aff.'
"'As lang's ye're sae near, ye may say that, Sandy,' replied Willie; 'but to gie ye an answer to Mr Darsy, tell him, wi' my compliments, Sandy, that there's a truth among Pope's maxims that he doesna seem to hae fan oot. Tell him, wi' my best respects, that, in
'Spite of pride, in erring reason's spite,
One truth is clear, whatever is, is right.
Tell ye him that, Sandy, and I'm sure he'll be perfectly satisfied.'
"'Do ye no mean to refund the money, then?' inquired Sandy.
"'Deil a cowrie,' said Willie.