stion. Now, I must
say, Sir Gideon, whatever ye may think, that ye are not only acting
cruelly, but foolishly."

"I care naething about the cruelty," cried he; "what mercy did ever a
Scott among them show to me or to mine? Lady Murray, the ball is at my
foot, and I will kick it, though I deprive Scott o' Harden o' a head.
And what mean ye, dame, by saying I act foolishly?"

"Only this, guidman," said she--"that ye hae three daughters to marry,
whom the world doesna consider to be ower weel-faured, and it isna every
day that ye hae a husband for ane o' them in your hand."

"Sooth!" cried he, "and for once in your life ye are right,
guidwife--there is mair wisdom in that remark than I would hae
gien ye credit for. To-morrow, the birkie o' Harden shall have his
choice--either upon the instant to marry our daughter, Meikle-mouthed
Meg, or strap for it."

"Weel, Sir Gideon," added she, "to make him marry Meg will be mair
purpose-like than to cut off the head and the hope of an auld house, in
the very flower o' his youth; and there is nae doubt as to the choice he
will mak, for there is an unco difference between them."

"Dinna be ower sure," continued the knight; "there is nae saying what
his choice may be. There is both pluck and a spirit o' contradiction in
the callant, and I wouldna be in the least surprised if he preferred the
wuddy. I ken, had I been in his place, what my choice would hae been."

"I daresay, Sir Gideon," replied the old lady, who was jocose at the
idea of seeing one of her daughters wed, "I daresay I could guess what
that choice would hae been."

"And what, in your wisdom," said he sharply, "do ye think it would hae
been--the wife or the wuddy?"

"O Gideon! Gideon!" said she, good-humouredly, and shaking her head,
"weel do ye ken that your choice would hae been a wife."

"There ye are wrang," cried he; "I would rather die a death that was
before me, than marry a wife I had never seen. But go ye and prepare Meg
for becoming a bride the morn, and I shall see what the intended
bridegroom says to the proposal."

In obedience to his commands, she went to an apartment in which their
eldest daughter Agnes, but commonly called "Meikle-mouthed Meg," then
sat, twirling a distaff. The old dame sat down by her daughter's side,
and, after a few observations respecting the weather, and the quality of
the lint she was then torturing into threads, she said--"Weel, I'm just
thinking, Meggie, that ye mak me a