"Here! Hoots! The callant's in a creel!" she cried. "Think ye a spy?
what else would I think ye--me that kens naething by ye? But I see that
I was wrong; and as I cannot fight, I'll have to apologise. A bonny
figure I would be with a broadsword. Ay! ay!" she went on, "you're none
such a bad lad in your way; I think ye'll have some redeeming vices.
But, oh, Davit Balfour, ye're damned countryfeed. Ye'll have to win over
that, lad; ye'll have to soople your back-bone, and think a wee pickle
less of your dainty self; and ye'll have to try to find out that
women-folk are nae grenadiers. But that can never be. To your last day
you'll ken no more of women-folk than what I do of sow-gelding."

I had never been used with such expressions from a lady's tongue, the
only two ladies I had known, Mrs. Campbell and my mother, being most
devout and most particular women; and I suppose my amazement must have
been depicted in my countenance, for Mrs. Ogilvy burst forth suddenly in
a fit of laughter.

"Keep me!" she cried, struggling with her mirth, "you have the finest
timber face--and you to marry the daughter of a Hieland cateran! Davie,
my dear, I think we'll have to make a match of it--if it was just to see
the weans. And now," she went on, "there's no manner of service in your
daidling here, for the young woman is from home, and it's my fear that
the old woman is no suitable companion for your father's son. Forbye
that I have nobody but myself to look after my reputation, and have been
long enough alone with a sedooctive youth. And come back another day for
your saxpence!" she cried after me as I left.

My skirmish with this disconcerting lady gave my thoughts a boldness
they had otherwise wanted. For two days the image of Catriona had mixed