ent about her
business, with solemn, interested eyes, half of admiration, half of
amusement. In the end Maggie always turned on him with a little laugh
touched with irritation.

"Han't yo' got nothin' better'n that to do, nor lookin' at me?" she
asked one Saturday about a month before Cup Day.

"No, I han't," the pert fellow rejoined.

"Then I wish yo' had. It mak's me fair jumpety yo' watchin' me so like
ony cat a mouse."

"Niver yo' fash yo'sel' account o' me, ma wench," he answered calmly.

"Yo' wench, indeed!" she cried, tossing her head.

"Ay, or will be," he muttered.

"What's that?" she cried, springing round, a flush of color on her face.

"Nowt, my dear. Yo'll know so soon as I want yo' to, yo' may be sure,
and no sooner."

The girl resumed her baking, half angry, half suspicious.

"I dunno' what yo' mean, Mr. M'Adam," she said.

"Don't yo', Mrs. M'A----"

The rest was lost in the crash of a falling plate; whereat David laughed
quietly, and asked if he should help pick up the bits.

* * * * *

On the same evening at the Sylvester Arms an announcement was made that
knocked the breath out of its hearers.

In the debate that night on the fast-approaching Dale Trials and the
relative abilities of red and gray, M'Adam on the one side, and Tammas,
backed by Long Kirby and the rest, on the other, had cudgelled each
other with more than usual vigor. The controversy rose to fever-heat;
abuse succeeded argument; and the little man again and again was hooted
into silence.

"It's easy laffin'," he cried at last, "but ye'll laff t'ither side o'
yer ugly faces on Cup Day."

"Will us, indeed? Us'll see," came the derisive chorus.

"We'll whip ye till ye're deaf, dumb, and blind, Wullie and I."

''Yo'll not!''

"We will!"

The voices were rising like the east wind in March.

"Yo'll not, and for a very good reason too," asseverated Tammas loudly.

"Gie us yer reason, ye muckle liar," cried the little man, turning on
him.

"Becos----" began Jim Mason and stopped to rub his nose.

"Yo' 'old yo' noise, Jim," recommended Rob Saunderson.

"Becos----" it was Tammas this time who paused.

"Git on wi' it, ye stammerin' stirk!" cried M'Adam. "Why?"

"Becos--Owd Bob'll not rin."

Tammas sat back in his chair.

"What!" screamed the little man, thrusting forward.

"What's that!" yelled Long Kirby, leaping to his feet.

"Mon, say it agin!" shouted Rob.

"What's owd a