"Ay, but ye see, oot here amo' the gentry it's no freely sae ill,
an' the ro'ds are no a' stane; an' here, ye see, 's the place whaur
they come, leddies an' a', to ha'e their rides thegither. What I'm
fleyt for is 'at she'll be brackin' legs wi' her deevilich kickin'."

"Haud her upo' dry strae an' watter for a whilie, till her banes
begin to cry oot for something to hap them frae the cauld: that'll
quaiet her a bit," said Peter.

"It's a' ye ken!" returned Malcolm. "She's aye the wau natur'd, the
less she has to ate. Na, na; she maun be weel lined. The deevil in
her maun lie warm, or she'll be neither to haud nor bin'. There's
nae doobt she's waur to haud in whan she's in guid condeetion; but
she's nane sae like to tak' a body by the sma' o' the back, an' shak
the inside oot o' 'im, as she maist did ae day to the herd laddie
at the ferm, only he had an auld girth aboot the mids o' 'im for
a belt, an' he tuik the less scaith."

"Cudna we gang an' see the maister the day?" said Blue Peter,
changing the subject.

He meant Mr Graham, the late schoolmaster of Portlossie, whom the
charge of heretical teaching had driven from the place.

"We canna weel du that till we hear whaur he is. The last time Miss
Horn h'ard frae him, he was changin' his lodgin's, an' ye see the
kin' o' a place this Lon'on is," answered Malcolm.

As soon as Peter was gone, to return to the boat, Malcolm dressed