"I was not consulted when I was sent hither," said the lad, haughtily.
"I cannot tell what the terms were."

"But I can tell you, sir Conachar," said the glover, angrily, "that
there is no fashion of honesty in binding yourself to an honest
craftsman, and spoiling more hides than your own is worth; and
now, when you are of age to be of some service, in taking up the
disposal of your time at your pleasure, as if it were your own
property, not your master's."

"Reckon with my father about that," answered Conachar; "he will
pay you gallantly--a French mutton for every hide I have spoiled,
and a fat cow or bullock for each day I have been absent."

"Close with him, friend Glover--close with him," said the armourer,
drily. "Thou wilt be paid gallantly at least, if not honestly.
Methinks I would like to know how many purses have been emptied
to fill the goat skin sporran that is to be so free to you of its
gold, and whose pastures the bullocks have been calved in that are
to be sent down to you from the Grampian passes."

"You remind me, friend," said the Highland youth, turning haughtily
towards the smith, "that I have also a reckoning to hold with you."

"Keep at arm's length, then," said Henry, extending his brawny arm:
"I will have no more close hugs--no more bodkin work, like last
night. I care little for a wasp's sting, yet I will not allow the
insect to come near me if I have warning."