“The laird’s ower ready wi’s clavers,” quoth the laird’s wife, nettled to find herself in the wrong, and forgetful of her own and her lord’s dignity at once.  “But,” she pursued, “all I can say is, that I consider it verra improper o’ you, wi’ a young lass-bairn, to encourage the nichtly veesits o’ a young gentleman, wha’s sae far aboon her in station, an’ dootless will some day be farther yet.”

“Mem!” said David, with dignity, “I’m willin’ no to understan’ what ye mean.  My Maggy’s no ane ‘at needs luikin’ efter; an’ a body had need to be carefu’ an’ no interfere wi’ the Lord’s herdin’, for he ca’s himsel’ the Shepherd o’ the sheep, an’ weel as I loe her I maun lea’ him to lead them wha follow him wherever he goeth.  She’ll be no ill guidit, and I’m no gaeing to kep her at ilka turn.”

“Weel, weel! that’s yer ain affair, Dawvid, my man,” rejoined Mrs. Glasford, with rising voice and complexion.  “A’ ’at I hae to add is jist this:  ’at as lang as my tutor veesits her”—­

“He veesits her no more than me, mem,” interposed David; but his mistress went on with dignified disregard of the interruption—­

“Veesits her, I canna, for the sake o’ my own bairns, an’ the morals o’ my hoosehold, employ her aboot the hoose, as I was in the way o’ doin’ afore.  Good mornin’, Dawvid.  I’ll speak to the laird himsel’, sin’ ye’ll no heed me.”

“It’s more to my lassie, mem, excuse me, to learn to unnerstan’ the works o’ her Maker, than it is to be employed in your household.  Mony thanks, mem, for what ye hev’ done in that way afore; an’ good mornin’ to ye, mem.  I’m sorry we should hae ony misunderstandin’, but I canna help it for my pairt.”

With these words David withdrew, rather anxious about the consequences to Hugh of this unpleasant interference on the part of Mrs. Glasford.  That lady’s wrath kept warm without much nursing, till the laird came home; when she turned the whole of her battery upon him, and kept up a steady fire until he yielded, and promised to turn his upon David.  But he had more common-sense than his wife in some things, and saw at once how ridiculous it would be to treat the affair as of importance.  So, the next time he saw David, he addressed him half jocularly: 

“Weel, Dawvid, you an’ the mistress hae been haein’ a bit o’ a dispute thegither, eh?”

“Weel, sir, we warna a’thegither o’ ae min’,” said David, with a smile.

“Weel, weel, we maun humour her, ye ken, or it may be the waur for us a’, ye ken.”  And the laird nodded with humorous significance.

“I’m sure I sud be glaid, sir; but this is no sma’ maitter to me an’ my Maggie, for we’re jist gettin’ food for the verra sowl, sir, frae him an’ his beuks.”

“Cudna ye be content wi the beuks wi’out the man, Dawvid?”

“We sud mak’ but sma’ progress, sir, that get.”

The laird began to be a little nettled himself at David’s stiffness about such a small matter, and held his peace.  David resumed: