"Hush," she said, holding up her finger, "do not swear, especially at
a son of the holy church. Ha, ha! A fit clerk and a reverend will they
make of Laurence MacKim! I have heard of your ploys and ongoings, both
of you. Think not I am to be taken in by your meekness and pretence of
dutiful service. You go athwart the country making love to poor
maidens, and then, when you have won their hearts, you leave them
lamenting."

And she affected to heave a deep sigh.

"Ah, Maudie," said the little girl, reproachfully, "now you are being
bad. I know it by your voice. Do not be unkind to my Sholto, for his
hair is so pleasant to touch. I wish you could feel it. And, besides,
when you are wicked to him, you make him jerk, and if he does it often
I shall have to send him away."

The Maid of Galloway was indeed entirely correct. For Maud Lindesay,
accustomed all her life to the homage of many men, and having been
brought up in a great castle in an age when chivalrous respect to
women had not yet given place to the licence of the Revival of
Letters, practised irritation like a fine art. She was brimful of the
superfluity of naughtiness, yet withal as innocent and playful as a
kitten.

But Sholto, both from a feeling that he belonged to an inferior rank,
and also being exceedingly conscious of his youth, chose to be
bitterly offended.

"You mistake me greatly, Mistress Lindesay," he said in an uneven
schoolboy's voice, to which he tried in vain to add a touch of worldly