rranged, the two parted. Giles was anxious to
know who his customer was; but no one could tell anything of him, and
the hour getting forward to the gloaming, he set off again for his farm,
with his forty-eight pounds in his pocket, and the cattle before him. On
his approaching Kelpiehaugh, Matty, along with her fair daughter, was at
the door, waiting for him. It was now dark; but she could hear his voice
in articulations which pleased her not. "Hey! hey! yaud! yaud!" and then
came the sound of a thwack on the backs of the lazy troop he was driving
before him.

"And ye've brought them back again, ye sorry simpleton?" cried the wife.

The husband answered nothing, but continued thumping at the nolt with
his "hey," and "yaud," and "phew"--every ejaculation having the effect
of an objurgatory attack on the dame herself.

"Ay, ay," she cried, "thump them and drive them into the shed, Giles,
that they may be ready for the roup o' our plenishing and stocking. The
auctioneer's hammer will knock them down wi' mair pith than that rung ye
are using, wi' a' the spite o' an angry disappointed man, wha couldna
mak a sale o' his ain kye."

Her cutting words had still no effect upon the good-natured farmer, who
continued his operations till he got the six steers safely lodged in
their shed. He then came into the house quietly, and, with a "heigh-ho,
that job's weel owre," sat him down by the side of the fire, opposite to
his wife and daughter. For some minutes there was silence in the house
of Kelpiehaugh; the reason whereof was that Matty's authority was for
once apparently disregarded, or set at naught, by the apparent absence
of all tokens of fear and contrition on the part of her mate. She had
already indicated sufficiently her sense of his stupidity, and given him
a peremptory notice of what he might expect for the next half-year to
come; yet there was he, against all custom, and all the laws of marital
subordination, sitting as easy and comfortable as if he merited her
praise and deserved her blessing. She could only look daggers at him,
with occasionally an expression of staring wonder at a nonchalance that
disproved twenty years of authority.

"Is there naething in Kelpiehaugh for its master to eat or drink?" said
he, at last, in a calm, soft voice. "A hard day's wark deserves
something at e'en."

"Is he adding impertinence to his folly?" thought the dame, as she sat
doggedly silent and immoveable.

"Come, Mary," added