For one thing, he could not understand such offence taken by one in Duncan’s lowly position; for although he had plenty of highland blood in his own veins, he had never lived in the Highlands, and understood nothing of the habits or feelings of the Gael. What was noble in him, however, did feel somewhat rebuked, and he was even a little sorry at having raised a barrier between himself and the manly young fisherman, to whom he had taken a sort of liking from the first. Of the ladies in the drawing-room, to whom he had recounted the vastly amusing joke with all the graphic delineation for which he had been admired at court, none, although they all laughed, had appeared to enjoy the bad recital thoroughly, except the bold-faced countess. Lady Florimel regarded the affair as undignified at the best, was sorry for the old man, who must be mad, she thought, and was pleased only with the praises of her squire of low degree. The wound in his hand the marquis either thought too trifling to mention, or serious enough to have clouded the clear sky of frolic under which he desired the whole transaction to be viewed. They were seated at their late breakfast when the lackey passed the window on his return from his unsuccessful mission, and the marquis happened to see him, carrying the rejected pipes. He sent for him, and heard his report, then with a quick nod dismissed him --his way when angry, and sat silent. “Wasn’t it spirited--in such poor people too?” said Lady Florimel, the colour rising in her face, and her eyes sparkling. “It was damned impudent,” said the marquis. “I think it was damned dignified,” said Lady Florimel. The marquis stared. The visitors, after a momentary silence, burst into a great laugh. “I wanted to see,” said Lady Florimel calmly, “whether _I_ couldn’t swear if I tried. I don’t think it tastes nice. I shan’t take to it, I think.” “You’d better not in my presence, my lady,” said the marquis, his eyes sparkling with fun. “I shall certainly not do it out of your presence, my lord,” she returned. “--Now I think of it,” she went on, “I know what I will do: every time you say a bad word in _my_ presence, I shall say it after you. I shan’t mind who’s there--parson or magistrate. Now you’ll see.” “You will get into the habit of it.” “Except you get out of the habit of it first, papa,” said the girl, laughing merrily. “You confounded little Amazon!” said her father. “But what’s to be done about those confounded pipes?” she resumed. “You can’t allow such people to serve you so! Return your presents, indeed!--Suppose I undertake the business?” “By all means. What will you do?” “Make them take them, of course. It would be quite horrible never to be quits with the old lunatic.” “As you please, puss.” “Then you put yourself in my hands, papa?” “Yes; only you must mind what you’re about, you know.” “That I will, and make them mind too,” she answered, and the subject was dropped.