‘Get Wattie Laidlaw the weaver to tak’ my place laird; he’s a grand curler, and can play up a stane as well as ony man in the parish; the fact is sir, just now I have na’ the heart even to curl. Gang yer ways yersell laird, and skip against the laird o’ Broughton, and there’s nae fear o’ the result: and Wattie can play third stane instead o’ me.’ ‘Wattie will play _nae_ third stane for me: come yourself Andrew, and we’ll try to cheer you up; and you’ll take your beef and greens up bye wi’ the rink callants and me in the afternoon.’ Denholm was considered one of the best curlers in that part of the county, and was usually one of the first to be on the ice; to see him, therefore, thus cast down and listless, filled the laird’s warm heart with sorrow. He saw there was something wrong. He must rally the dejected mason. ‘Do you think,’ continued the laird, ‘that I would trust Wattie to play in your place; a poor silly body that can barely get to the hog-score, let alone the tee? Na, na Andrew; rather let the match be off than be beaten in that way.’ Seeing the laird thus determined to carry off his ‘third man’ to the scene of the approaching conflict, the poor mason endeavoured still further to remonstrate by a recital of his grievances. ‘Ye ken sir,’ he began, ‘what a long storm it has been. Six weeks since I’ve had a day at my trade, though I have made a shilling or two now and again up-bye at the homestead yonder. But wi’ the price o’ meal at half-a-crown the peck, and no’ very good after a’; and nineteenpence for a loaf of bread, we’ve had a sair time of it. But we wadna’ vex oorsels about that, Maggie and me, if we had meal eneugh to keep the bairns fed. Five o’ them dwining away before our eyes; it’s been an unco job I assure you, laird. Indeed if it hadna been for Mag’s sister that’s married upon the grieve o’ Drummelzier, dear knows what would have become of us, wi’ whiles no a handfu’ o’ meal left in the girnel. Even wi’ the siller to pay for it, it’s no’ aye to be gotten; and,’ faltered the poor fellow in conclusion, ‘there’s just meal eneugh in the house to-day to last till the morn.’ ‘Well, cheer up my man!’ cried the laird; ‘the longest day has an end, and this storm cannot last much longer. In fact there’s a thaw coming on or I’m far cheated. There’s a crown to Maggie to replenish the meal-ark, and get maybe a sup o’ something better for the bairns. And there’s cheese an’ bread in the gig here that will serve you and me Andrew, till the beef and greens are ready for us up-bye in the afternoon. Meanwhile, a tastin’ o’ the flask will no be amiss, and then for Broughton.’ Thus invigorated and reassured, the mason took his seat beside the laird, and amid blessings from the gudewife and well-wishings from the bairns, the two sped on their journey.