suit as this! What think you, eh? Is it not a
valiant apparel, as might almost beseem one who rode a-courting?"

The mighty master-smith looked at the young man with eyes in which
reverence, rebuke, and admiration strove together.

"But," he said, wagging his head with a grave humorousness, "your
lordship needs not to ride a-courting. You are to be married to a
great dame who will bring you wealth, alliance, and the dower of
provinces."

The young man shrugged his shoulders, and swung lightly off his
charger, which turned to look at him as he stood and patted its neck.

"Know you not, Malise," he said, "that the Earl of Douglas must needs
marry provinces and the Lord of Galloway wed riches? But what is there
in that to prevent Will Douglas going courting at eighteen years of
his age as a young man ought. But have no fear, I come not hither
seeking the favour of any, save of that lily flower of yours, the only
true May-blossom that blooms on the Three Thorns of Carlinwark. I
would look upon the angel smile on the face of your little daughter
Magdalen. An she be here, I would toss her arm-high for a kiss of her
mouth, which I would rather touch than that of lady or leman. For I do
ever profess myself her vassal and slave. Where have you hidden her,
Malise? Declare it or perish!"

The smith lifted up his voice till it struck on the walls of his
cottage and echoed like thunder along the shores of the lake.

"Dame Barbara," he cried, and again, getting no answer, "ho, Dame
Barbara, I say!"

Then at the second hallo, a shrill and somewhat peevish voice
proceeded from within the house opposite.

"Aye, coming, can you not hear, great nolt! 'Deed and 'deed 'tis a
pretty pass when a woman with the cares of an household must come
running light-toe and clatter-heel to every call of such a lazy lout.
Husband, indeed--not house-band but house-bond, I wot--house-torment,
house-thorn, house-cross--"

A sonsy, well-favoured, middle-aged head, strangely at variance with
the words which came from it, peeped out, and instantly the scolding
brattle was stilled. Back went the head into the dark of the house as
if shot from a bombard.

Malise MacKim indulged in a low hoarse chuckle as he caught the words:
"Eh, 'tis my Lord William! Save us, and me wanting my Ryssil gown that
cost me ten silver shillings the ell, and no even so muckle as my
white peaked cap upon my head."

Her husband glanced at the young Earl to see if he apprec