“I fear I was sadly pedantical,” said I, overcome with confusion at the memory. “You are only to consider I am quite unused with the society of ladies.” “I will say the less about the grammar then,” she replied. “But how came you to desert your charge? ‘He has thrown her out, overboard, his ain dear Annie!’” she hummed; “and his ain dear Annie and her two sisters had to taigle home by theirselves like a string of green geese! It seems you returned to my papa’s, where you showed yourself excessively martial, and then on to realms unknown, with an eye (it appears) to the Bass Rock; solan geese being perhaps more to your mind than bonny lasses.” Through all this raillery there was something indulgent in the lady’s eye which made me suppose there might be better coming. “You take a pleasure to torment me,” said I, “and I make a very feckless plaything; but let me ask you to be more merciful. At this time there is but the one thing that I care to hear of, and that will be news of Catriona.” “Do you call her by that name to her face, Mr. Balfour?” she asked. “In troth, and I am not very sure,” I stammered. “I would not do so in any case to strangers,” said Miss Grant. “And why are you so much immersed in the affairs of this young lady?” “I heard she was in prison,” said I. “Well, and now you hear that she is out of it,” she replied, “and what more would you have? She has no need of any further champion.” “I may have the greater need of her, ma’am,” said I. “Come, this is better!” says Miss Grant. “But look me fairly in the face; am I not bonnier than she?” “I would be the last to be denying it,” said I. “There is not your marrow in all Scotland.” “Well, here you have the pick of the two at your hand, and must needs speak of the other,” said she. “This is never the way to please the ladies, Mr. Balfour.” “But, mistress,” said I, “there are surely other things besides mere beauty.” “By which I am to understand that I am no better than I should be, perhaps?” she asked. “By which you will please understand that I am like the cock in the midden in the fable book,” said I. “I see the braw jewel—and I like fine to see it too—but I have more need of the pickle corn.”