‘The simple wish to see my neighbours has brought me,’ replied Gilbert. ‘I have so much to learn that I lose no chance of adding anything to my experience.’
While they were yet some way from their destination the crowd parted for a moment, and Lady Eliza caught sight of the object in its midst. She pointed towards it.
‘Ride, Fullarton! ride, for God’s sake, and bid for the water-butt!’ she cried.
‘Tut, tut, my lady. What use have you for it?’
‘It will come very useful for drowning the stable terrier’s puppies. She has them continually. Ride, I tell you, man! Am I to be overrun with whelps because you will not bestir yourself?’
Gilbert could scarce conceal his amusement, and was divided between his desire to laugh aloud and an uneasy feeling that the lady would appeal to him.
The auctioneer was seen at this juncture to leap down from the wood-pile on which he stood, and a couple of men hurried forward and began to remove the water-butt. It was being hustled away like some corpulent drunkard, its legs trailing the ground stiffly and raising a dust that threatened to choke the bystanders.
The yard was full of people, and, as the auctioneer had paused between two lots, and was being refreshed at the expense of the farm’s owner, tongues were loose, and the air was filled with discussion, jests, and the searching smell of tobacco and kicked-up straw. Among the few women present Gilbert perceived Granny Stirk, seated precariously on the corner of the wood-pile from which the auctioneer had just descended. Beside her was a tall, shock-headed lad of nineteen or so, whom only the most unobservant could suspect of belonging to the same category as the farm-boys, though his clothes were of the same fashion as their own, and his face wore the same healthy tanned red. He was spare and angular, and had that particular focus of eye which one sees in men who steer boats, drive horses, pay out ropes, and whose hands can act independently while they are looking distant possibilities in the face. A halter dangled from his arm. He was very grave and his thoughts were evidently fixed on the door of the farm stable. In spite of his sharp-cut personality, he stood by Granny Stirk in a way that suggested servitude.
Gilbert left his companions and went towards the couple. Granny’s face was lengthened to suit the demands of a public occasion, and her little three-cornered woollen shawl was pinned with a pebble brooch.
‘What ails ye that ye canna see the laird of Whanland?’ she said, turning to the boy as Speid stopped beside them.