t he could not
bear anybody behind his back, Bruce, when about the business that his
soul loved, eschewed the presence of any third person.

"Noo, Mr Doo?" he said.

"My business'll keep," replied Dow.

"But ye see we're busy the nicht, Mr Doo."

"Weel, I dinna want to hurry ye. But I wonner that ye wad buy ill
butter, to please onybody, even a bonnie lass like that."

"Some fowk likes the taste o' neeps, though I dinna like it mysel',"
answered Bruce. "But the fac' that neeps is no a favourite wi' the
maist o' fowk, brings doon the price i' the market."

"Neeps is neither here nor there," said the girl; and taking up her
basket, she was going to leave the shop.

"Bide a bit, my lass," cried Bruce. "The mistress wad like to see ye.
Jist gang benn the hoose to her wi' yer basket, and see what she thinks
o' the butter. I may be wrang, ye ken."

So saying he opened the inner door, and ushered the young woman into
the kitchen.

"Noo, Mr Doo?" he said once more. "Is't tobawco, or sneeshin (snuff),
or what is't?"

"It's Annie Anderson's kist and a' her gear."

"I'm surprised at ye, Jeames Doo. There's the lassie's room up the
stair, fit for ony princess, whanever she likes to come back till't.
But she was aye a royt (riotous) lassie, an' a reglar rintheroot."

"Ye lee, Rob Bruce," exclaimed Dow, surprised out of his proprieties.
"Whaever ye say that till, dinna say't to me."

Bruce was anything but a quarrelsome man with other than his inferiors.
He pocketed the lie very calmly.

"Dinna lowse yer temper, Mr Doo. It's a sair fau't that."

"Jist ye deliver up the bairn's effecks, or I'll gang to them that'll
gar ye."

"Wha micht that be, Mr Doo?" asked Bruce, wishing first to find out how
far Dow was prepared to go.

"Ye hae no richt whatever to keep that lassie's claes, as gin she aucht
(owed) you onything for rent."

"Hae _ye_ ony richt to tak them awa'? Hoo ken I what'll come o' them?"

"Weel, I s' awa' doon to Mr Gibb, and we'll see what can be dune there.
It's weel kent ower a' Glamerton, Mr Bruce, in what mainner you and yer
haill hoose hae borne yersels to that orphan lassie; and I'll gang into
ilka chop, as I gang doon the street, that is, whaur I'm acquant, and
I'll jist tell them whaur I'm gaun, and what for."

The thing which beyond all others Bruce dreaded was unremunerative
notoriety.

"Hoots! Jeames Doo, ye dinna ken jokin' frae jeistin'. I never was the
man to set mysel' i' the face o'