Winsome rose with a flush of disappointment, and looked very reproachfully towards the culprit.  Ralph, who had followed the stone, stood up to his knees in the water, looking the picture of crestfallen humility.

Overhead on the bank Andra danced madly like an imp.  He would not have dared to speak to Ralph on any other occasion, but guddling, like curling, loosens the tongue.  He who fails or causes the failures of others is certain to hear very plainly of it from those who accompany him to this very dramatic kind of fishing.

“0’ a’ the stupid asses!” cried that young man.  “Was there ever sic a beauty?—­a pund wecht gin it was an ounce!—­an’ to fa’ aff a stane like a six-months’ wean!”

His effective condemnation made Winsome laugh.  Ralph laughed along with her, which very much increased the anger of Andra, who turned away in silent indignation.  It was hard to think, just when he had got the “prairie flower” of Craig Ronald (for whom he cherished a romantic attachment of the most desperate and picturesque kind) away from the house for a whole long afternoon at the fishing, that this great grown-up lout should come this way and spoil all his sport.  Andra was moved to the extremity of scorn.

“Hey, mon!” he called to Ralph, who was standing in the water’s edge with Winsome on a miniature bay of shining sand, looking down on the limpid lapse of the clear moss-tinted water slipping over its sand and pebbles—­“hey, mon!” he cried.

“Well, Andra, what is it?” asked Winsome Charteris, looking up after a moment.  She had been busy thinking.

“Tell that chap frae Enbro’,” said Andra, collecting all his spleen into one tremendous and annihilating phrase—­“him that tummilt aff the stane—­that there’s a feck o’ paddocks [a good many frogs] up there i’ the bog.  He micht come up here an’ guddle for paddocks.  It wad be safer for the like o’ him!” The ironical method is the favourite mode or vehicle of humour among the common orders in Galloway.  Andra was a master in it.

“Andra,” said Winsome warmly, “you must not—­”

“Please let him say whatever he likes.  My awkwardness deserves it all,” said Ralph, with becoming meekness.

“I think you had better go home now,” said Winsome; “it will soon be time for you to bring the kye home.”

“Hae ye aneuch troots for the mistress’s denner?” said Andra, who knew very well how many there were.

“There are the four that you got, and the one I got beneath the bank, Andra,” answered Winsome.

“Nane o’ them half the size o’ the yin that he fleyed [frightened] frae ablow the big stane,” said Andra Kissock, indicating the culprit once more with the stubby great toe of his left foot.  It would have done Ralph too much honour to have pointed with his hand.  Besides, it was a way that Andrew had at all times.  He indicated persons and things with that part of him which was most convenient at