times in memory. Farewell!" With that I turned my
back and began to walk away; and had scarce done so, when I heard the
door in the high wall close behind me. Of course this was the aunt's
doing; and of course, if I know anything of human character, she would
not let me go without some tart expressions. I declare, even if I had
heard them, I should not have minded in the least, for I was quite
persuaded that, whatever admirers I might be leaving behind me in
Swanston Cottage, the aunt was not the least sincere.

CHAPTER X

THE DROVERS

It took me a little effort to come abreast of my new companion; for
though he walked with an ugly roll and no great appearance of speed, he
could cover the ground at a good rate when he wanted to. Each looked at
the other: I with natural curiosity, he with a great appearance of
distaste. I have heard since that his heart was entirely set against me;
he had seen me kneel to the ladies, and diagnosed me for a "gesterin'
eediot."

"So, ye're for England, are ye?" said he.

I told him yes.

"Weel, there's waur places, I believe," was his reply; and he relapsed
into a silence which was not broken during a quarter of an hour of
steady walking.

This interval brought us to the foot of a bare green valley, which wound
upwards and backwards among the hills. A little stream came down the
midst and made a succession of clear pools, near by the lowest of which
I was aware of a drove of shaggy cattle, and a man who seemed the very
counterpart of Mr. Sim making a breakfast upon bread and cheese. This
second drover (whose name proved to be Candlish) rose on our approach.

"Here's a mannie that's to gang through with us," said Sim. "It was the
auld wife Gilchrist wanted it."

"Aweel, aweel," said the other; and presently, remembering his manners,
and looking on me with a solemn grin, "A fine day!" says he.

I agreed with him, and asked him how he did.

"Brawly," was the reply; and without further civilities, the pair
proceeded to get the cattle under way. This, as well as almost all the
herding, was the work of a pair of comely and intelligent dogs, directed
by Sim or Candlish in little more than monosyllables. Presently we were
ascending the side of the mountain by a rude green track, whose presence
I had not hitherto observed. A continual sound of munching and the
crying of a great quantity of moor birds accompanied our progress, which
the deliberate pace and perennial appetite of