a peculiar smile, which was not sweet enough to restore vanished
confidence.

"Naething guid for dogs," answered Malcolm, and was walking past.

But she made a step forward, and, with a laugh meant to indicate
friendly amusement, said,

"Let's see what's intill't, ony gait (anyhow).--The doggie's awa
on 's traivels the day."

"'Deed, Mistress Catanach," persisted Malcolm, "I canna say I like
to hae my ain fish flung i' my face, nor yet to see ill-faured
tykes rin awa' wi' 't afore my verra een."

After the warning given him by Miss Horn, and the strange influence
her presence had had on his grandfather, Malcolm preferred keeping
up a negative quarrel with the woman.

"Dinna ca' ill names," she returned: "my dog wad tak it waur to be
ca'd an ill faured tyke, nor to hae fish flung in his face. Lat's
see what's i' yer basket, I say."

As she spoke, she laid her hand on the basket, but Malcolm drew
back, and turned away towards the gate.

"Lord safe us!" she cried, with a yelling laugh; "ye're no feared
at an auld wife like me?"

"I dinna ken; maybe ay an' maybe no--I wadna say. But I dinna