daring to insult me in my own
house? Damn your insolent foolery!"

"A trick! a most palpable trick! and an exceedingly silly one!"
pronounced Fergus, who had now read the paper; "quite as foolish as
unjustifiable! Everybody knows Glashruach is the property of Major
Culsalmon!"--Here the laird sought the relief of another oath or
two.--"I entreat you to moderate your anger, my dear sir," Fergus
resumed. "The thing is hardly worth so much indignation. Some
animal has been playing the poor fellow an ill-natured
trick--putting him up to it for the sake of a vile practical joke.
It is exceedingly provoking, but you must forgive him. He is
hardly to blame, scarcely accountable, under the natural
circumstances.--Get away with you," he added, addressing Gibbie
across the table. "Make haste before worse comes of it. You have
been made a fool of."

When Fergus began to speak, the laird turned, and while he spoke
stared at him with lack-lustre yet gleaming eyes, until he addressed
Gibbie, when he turned on him again as fiercely as before. Poor
Gibbie stood shaking his head, smiling, and making eager signs with
hands and arms; but in the laird's condition of both heart and brain
he might well forget and fail to be reminded that Gibbie was dumb.

"Why don't you speak, you fool?" he cried. "Get out and don't stand
making faces there. Be off with you, or I will knock you down with
a decanter."

Gibbie pointed to the paper, which lay before Fergus, and placed a
hand first on his lips, then on his heart.

"Damn your mummery!" said the laird, choking with rage. "Go away,
or, by God! I will break your head."

Fergus at this rose and came round the table to get between them.
But the laird caught up a pair of nutcrackers, and threw it at
Gibbie. It struck him on the forehead, and the blood spirted from
the wound. He staggered backwards. Fergus seized the laird's arm,
and sought to pacify him.

Her father's loud tones had reached Ginevra in her room; she ran
down, and that instant entered: Gibbie all but fell into her arms.
The moment's support she gave him, and the look of loving terror
she cast in his face, restored him; and he was again firm on his
feet, pressing her handkerchief to his forehead, when Fergus,
leaving the laird, advanced with the pacific intention of getting
him safe from the house. Ginevra stepped between them. Her
father's rage thereupon broke loose quite, and was madness. He
seized hol