Part 63 (2/2)
”I see you're a thorough going rebel yourself.”
”Naething o' the kind, my lord. I'm only sae far o' yer lords.h.i.+p's min' 'at I like fair play--gien a body could only be aye richt sure what was fair play!”
”Yes, there's the very point!--certainly, at least, when the question comes to be of eavesdropping--not to mention that I could never condescend to play the spy.”
”What a body has a richt to hear, he may hear as he likes--either shawin' himsel' or hidin' himsel'. An' it 's the only plan 'at 's fair to them, my lord. It 's no 's gien yer lords.h.i.+p was lyin' in wait to du them a mischeef: ye want raither to du them a kin'ness, an' tak their pairt.”
”I don't know that, Malcolm. It depends.”
”It's plain yer lords.h.i.+p's prejudeezed i' their fawvour. Ony. gait I 'm sartin it's fair play ye want; an' I canna for the life o' me see a hair o' wrang i' yer lords.h.i.+p's gaein' in a cogue, as auld Tammy Dyster ca's 't; for, at the warst, ye cud only interd.i.c.k them, an' that ye cud du a' the same, whether ye gaed or no. An', gien ye be sae wulled, I can tak you an' my leddy whaur ye 'll hear ilka word 'at 's uttered, an' no a body get a glimp o' ye, mair nor gien ye was sittin' at yer ain fireside as ye are the noo.”
”That does make a difference!” said the marquis, a great part of whose unwillingness arose from the dread of discovery. ”It would be very amusing.”
”I'll no promise ye that,” returned Malcolm. ”I dinna ken aboot that.--There's jist ae objection hooever: ye wad hae to gang a guid hoor afore they begoud to gaither.--An' there 's aye laadies aboot the place sin' they turned it intill a kirk!” he added thoughtfully. ”But,” he resumed, ”we cud manage them.”
”How?”
”I wad get my gran'father to strik' up wi' a spring upo' the pipes, o' the other side o' the bored craig--or lat aff a shot of the sweevil: they wad a' rin to see, an' i' the meantime we cud lan'
ye frae the cutter. We wad hae ye in an' oot o' sicht in a moment --Blue Peter an' me--as quaiet as gien ye war ghaists, an' the hoor midnicht.”
The marquis was persuaded, but objected to the cutter. They would walk there, he said. So it was arranged that Malcolm should take him and Lady Florimel to the Baillies' Barn the very next time the fishermen had a meeting.
CHAPTER XLVI: THE BAILLIES' BARN
Lady Florimel was delighted at the prospect of such an adventure.
The evening arrived. An hour before the time appointed for the meeting, the three issued from the tunnel, and pa.s.sed along the landward side of the dune, towards the promontory. There sat the piper on the swivel, ready to sound a pibroch the moment they should have reached the shelter of the bored craig--his signal being Malcolm's whistle. The plan answered perfectly. In a few minutes, all the children within hearing were gathered about Duncan--a rarer sight to them than heretofore--and the way was clear to enter unseen.
It was already dusk, and the cave was quite dark, but Malcolm lighted a candle, and, with a little difficulty, got them up into the wider part of the cleft, where he had arranged comfortable seats with plaids and cus.h.i.+ons. As soon as they were placed, he extinguished the light.
”I wish you would tell us another story, Malcolm,” said Lady Florimel.
”Do,” said the marquis ”the place is not consecrated yet.”
”Did ye ever hear the tale o' the auld warlock, my leddy?” asked Malcolm. ”Only my lord kens 't!” he added.
”I don't,” said Lady Florimel.
”It's great nonsense,” said the marquis.
”Do let us have it, papa.”
”Very well. I don't mind hearing it again.” He wanted to see how Malcolm would embellish it.
”It seems to me,” said Malcolm, ”that this ane aboot Lossie Hoose'
an' yon ane aboot Colonsay Castel, are verra likly but twa stalks frae the same rute. Ony gate, this ane aboot the warlock maun be the auldest o' the twa. Ye s' hae 't sic 's I hae 't mysel'. Mistress Coorthoup taul' 't to me.”
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