"Deed I cudna du 't, Mistress Catanach--though I'm sorry to
disobleege ye. It's bespoken, ye see. But there's a fine haddie,
an' a bonny sma' coddie, an' a goukmey (gray gurnard)."

"Gae 'wa' wi' yer haddies, an' yer goukmeys! Ye sanna gowk me wi'
them."

"Weel, I wadna wonner," said Malcolm, "gien Mrs Courthope wad like
the haddie tu, an' maybe the lave o' them as weel. Hers is a muckle
faimily to haud eatin.' I'll jist gang to the Hoose first afore I
mak ony mair offers frae my creel."

"Ye'll lea' the troot wi' me," said Mrs Catanach imperiously.

"Na; I canna du that. Ye maun see yersel' 'at I canna."

The woman's face grew dark with anger. "It s' be the waur for ye,"
she cried.

"I'm no gauin' to be fleyt (frightened) at ye. Ye're no sic a witch
as that comes till, though ye div ken a body's fit upo' the flags!
My blin' luckie deddy can du mair nor that!" said Malcolm, irritated
by her persistency, threats and evil looks.

"Daur ye me?"' she returned, her pasty cheeks now red as fire, and
her wicked eyes flashing as she shook her clenched fist at him.

"What for no?" he answered coolly, turning his head back over his
shoulder, for he was already on his way to the gate.