affectation of resignation.

"No--you are right--we are not worthy even to kiss your knightly
hand," she said, "but we will respectfully greet you." Here she swept
him a full reverence, and ran up the steps again before he could take
hold of her. Then, standing on the topmost step, and holding her
friend's hand in hers, she spoke to the Maid of Galloway in a tone
hushed and regretful, as one speaks of the dead.

"No, Margaret," she said, "he will no more play with us. Hide-and-seek
about the stack-yard ricks at the Mains is over in the gloamings. Sir
Sholto cares no more for us. He has put away childish things. He will
not even blow out a lamp for us with his own honourable lips. No, he
will call his squire to do it!"

Sholto looked the indignation he would not trust himself to speak.

"He will dine with the Earl in hall, and quaff and stamp and shout
with the best when they drink the toasts. But he has become too great
a man to carry you and me any more over the stepping-stones at the
ford, or pull with us the ripe berries when the briars are drooping
purple on the braes of Keltonhill. Bid him good-by, Margaret, for he
was our kind friend once. And when he rides out to battle, perhaps, if
we are good and respectful, he may again wave us a hand and say:
'There are two lassies that once I kenned!'"

At this inordinate flouting the patience of the new knight, growing
more and more angry at each word, came quickly to the breaking point;
for his nerves were jarred and jangled by the excitement of the day.
He gave vent to a short sharp cry, and started up the steps with the