It was a keen frost, but in the sun the icicles had begun to drop.
The roofs in the shadow were covered with hoar frost; wherever
there was shadow there was whiteness. But for all the cold, there
was keen life in the air, and yet keener life in the two animals,
biped and quadruped.

As they thus stood, the one trying to sweeten the other's relation
to himself, if he could not hope much for her general temper, a
man, who looked half farmer, half lawyer, appeared on the opposite
side of the court in the shadow.

"You are spoiling that mare, MacPhail," he cried.

"I canna weel du that, sir; she canna be muckle waur," said the
youth.

"It's whip and spur she wants, not sugar."

"She has had, and sail have baith, time aboot (in turn); and I houp
they'll du something for her in time, sir."

"Her time shall be short here, anyhow. She's not worth the sugar
you give her."

"Eh, sir! luik at her," said Malcolm, in a tone of expostulation,
as he stepped back a few paces and regarded her with admiring eyes.
"Saw ye ever sic legs? an' sic a neck? an' sic a heid? an' sic fore
an' hin' quarters? She's a' bonny but the temper o' her, an' that
she canna help like the likes o' you an me."