"To quit!" exclaimed Malcolm. "Sic a thing was never h'ard tell o'."
"Haith! it's h'ard tell o' noo," returned the gate-keeper. "Quittin' 's as plenty as quicken (couch-grass). 'Deed, there's maist naething ither h'ard tell o' bit quittin', for the full half o' Scaurnose is un'er like nottice for Michaelmas, an' the Lord kens what it 'll a' en' in!"
"But what's it for? Blue Peter's no the man to misbehave himsel'."
"Weel, ye ken mair yersel' nor ony ither as to the warst fau't there is to lay till 's chairge; for they say—that is, some say—it's a' yer ain wyte, Ma'colm."
"What mean ye, man? Speyk oot," said Malcolm.
"They say it's a' anent the abduckin' o' the markis's boat, 'at you an' him gaed aff wi' thegither."
"That'll hardly haud, seein' the marchioness hersel' cam' hame in her the last nicht."
"Ay, but ye see the decree's gane oot, and what the factor says is like the laws o' the Medes an' Persians, 'at they say's no to be altert: I kenna mysel'."
"Ow weel, gien that be a', I'll see efter that wi' the marchioness."
"Ay, but ye see there's a lot o' the laads there, as I'm tellt, 'at has vooed 'at factor nor factor's man sall never set fut in Scaurnose frae this day furth. Gang ye doon to the Seaton, an' see hoo mony o' yer auld freen's ye'll fin' there. Man, there a' oot to Scaurnose to see the plisky. The factor he's there, I ken—and some constables wi' 'im—to see 'at his order's cairried oot. An' the laads they hae been fortifeein' the place, as they ca' 't, for the last ook. They've howkit a trenk, they tell me, 'at nane but a hunter on 's horse cud win ower, an' they're postit alang the toon-side o' 't wi' sticks an' stanes an boat-heuks, an' guns an' pistils. An' gien there bena a man or twa killt a'ready—"