"Sir," said Malcolm, seriously, "ye dinna mean what ye say? Ye
said yersel' she wad be the deith o' somebody, an' to sell her ohn
tell't what she's like wad be to caw the saxt comman'ment clean to
shivers."

"That may be good doctrine i' the kirk, my lad, but it's pure heresy
i' the horse market. No, no! You buy a horse as you take a wife--
for better for worse, as the case may be. A woman's not bound to
tell her faults when a man wants to marry her. If she keeps off
the worst of them afterwards, it's all he has a right to look for."

"Hoot, sir! there's no a pair o' parallel lines in a' the
compairison," returned Malcolm. "Mistress Kelpie here 's e'en ower
ready to confess her fauts, an' that by giein' a taste o' them;
she winna bide to be speired; but for haudin' aff o' them efter the
bargain's made--ye ken she's no even responsible for the bargain.
An' gien ye expec' me to haud my tongue aboot them--faith,
Maister Crathie, I wad as sune think o' sellin' a rotten boat to
Blue Peter. Gien the man 'at has her to see tilt dinna ken to luik
oot for a storm o' iron shune or lang teeth ony moment, his wife
may be a widow that same market nicht: An' forbye, it's again' the
aucht comman'ment as weel's the saxt. There's nae exception there
in regaird o' horse flesh. We maun be honest i' that as weel's i'
corn or herrin', or onything ither 'at 's coft an' sell't atween
man an' his neibor."

"There's one commandment, my lad," said Mr Crathie, with the dignity
of intended rebuke, "you seem to find hard to learn, and that is,
to mind your own business."