Harry, lad, do ye see that hoodie? Was there ever such impudence? I could maist kill him with a stone. But I'll come along and pay a visit to the gentleman ere the month's much older:—
"'Tis beneath the spreading birch,
In the dell without a name,
Wi' a bonnie, bonnie lassie,
When the kye come hame."
What think ye o' that now?—for we'll have to do our best to-morrow night to please the bairns. Ah, you wise wee deevil!—catch you drinking out o' a puddle when ye see any running water near.
"When the kye come hame, when the kye come hame,
Twixt the gloaming and the mirk, when the kye come hame."
CHAPTER X.
HIGH FESTIVAL.