ll wass pe come home."

"What's the maitter noo, daddy?" returned Malcolm. "Onything wrang
aboot the hoose?"

"Something will pe wrong, yes, put she'll not can tell where. No, her
pody will not pe full of light! For town here, in ta curset Lowlands,
ta sight has peen almost cone from her, my son. It will now pe no more
as a co creeping troo' her, and shell nefer see plain no more till
she'll pe come pack to her own mountains."

"The puir laird's gane back to his," said Malcolm. "I won'er gien he
kens yet, or gien he gangs speirin' at ilk ane he meets gien he can
tell him whaur he cam frae. He's mad nae mair, ony gait."

"How? Will he pe not tead? Ta poor lairt! Ta poor maad lairt!"

"Ay, he's deid: maybe that's what'll be troublin' yer sicht, daddy."

"No, my son. Ta maad lairt was not ferry maad, and if he was maad
he was not paad, and it was not ta plame of him: he was coot always,
howefer."

"He wass that, daddy."

"But it will pe something ferry paad, and it will pe efer troubling
her speerit. When she'll pe take ta pipes to pe amusing herself, and
will plow 'Till an crodh a' Dhonnaehaidh' ('Turn the Cows, Duncan'),
out will pe come' Cumhadh an fhir mhoir' ('The Lament of the Big
Man'). Aal is not well, my son."

"Weel, dinna distress yersel', daddy. Lat come what wull come.
Foreseein' 's no forefen'in'. Ye ken yersel' at mony 's the time the
seer has broucht the thing on by tryin' to haud it aff."

"It will be true, my son. Put it would aalways haf come."

"Nae doubt. Sae ye jist come in wi' me, daddy, an' sit doon by the ha'
fire, an' I'll come to ye as sune's I've been to see 'at the maister
disna want me. But ye'll better come up wi' me to my room first," he
went on, "for the maister disna like to see me in onything but the
kilt."

"And why will he not pe in ta kilts aal as now?"

"I hae been ridin', ye ken, daddy, an' the trews fits the saiddle
better nor the kilts."

"She'll not pe knowing tat. Old Allister, your creat--her own
crandfather, was ta pest horseman ta worlt efer saw, and he'll nefer
pe hafing ta trews to his own lecks nor ta saddle to his horse's pack.
He'll chust make his men pe strap on an old plaid, and he'll be kive
a chump, and away they wass, horse and man, one peast, aal two of tem
poth together."

Thus chatting, they went to the stable, and from the stable to the
house, where they met no one, and went straight up to Malcolm's room,
the old man making as little of the lo