“Na, my leddy; I wad hae mair wut. A leebrary canna be made a’ at ance, ony mair nor a hoose, or a nation, or a muckle tree: _they_ maun a’ tak time to grow, an’ sae maun a leebrary. I wadna even ken what buiks to gang an’ speir for. I daursay, gien I war to try, I cudna at a moment’s notice tell ye the names o’ mair nor a twa score o’ buiks at the ootside. Fowk maun mak acquantance amo’ buiks as they wad amo’ leevin’ fowk.” “But you could get somebody who knew more about them than yourself to buy for you.” “I wad as sune think o’ gettin’ somebody to ate my denner for me.” “No, that’s not fair,” said Florimel. “It would only be like getting somebody who knew more of cookery than yourself, to order your dinner for you.” “Ye’re richt, my leddy; but still I wad as sune think o’ the tane ’s the tither. What wad come o’ the like o’ me, div ye think, broucht up upo’ meal-brose, an’ herrin’, gien ye was to set me doon to sic a denner as my lord, yer father, wad ait ilka day, an’ think naething o’? But gien some fowk hed the buyin’ o’ my buiks, I’m thinkin’ the first thing I wad hae to du, wad be to fling the half o’ them into the burn.” “What good would that do?” “Clear awa’ the rubbitch. Ye see, my leddy, it’s no buiks, but _what_ buiks. Eh! there maun be mony ane o’ the richt sort here, though. I wonner gien Mr Graham ever saw them. He wad surely hae made mention o them i’ my hearin’!” “What would be the first thing you would do, then, Malcolm, if you happened to turn out a great man after all?” said Florimel, seating herself in a huge library chair, whence, having arranged her skirt, she looked up in the young fisherman’s face. “I doobt I wad hae to sit doon, an’ turn ower the change a feow times afore I kent aither mysel’ or what wad become me,” he said. “That’s not answering my question,” retorted Florimel. “Weel, the second thing I wad du,” said Malcolm, thoughtfully, and pausing a moment, “wad be to get Mr Graham to gang wi’ me to Ebberdeen, an’ cairry me throu’ the classes there. Of coorse, I wadna try for prizes; that wadna be fair to them ’at cudna affoord a tutor at their lodgin’s.” “But it’s the _first_ thing you would do that I want to know,” persisted the girl. “I tell’t ye I wad sit doon an’ think aboot it.” “I don’t count that _doing_ anything.” “’Deed, my leddy! thinkin ’s the hardest wark I ken.” “Well, what is it you would think about first?” said Florimel-- not to be diverted from her course. “Ow, the third thing I wad du--” “I want to know the first thing you would think about.” “I canna say yet what the third thing wad be. Fower year at the college wad gie me time to reflec upon a hantle o’ things.” “I insist on knowing the first thing you would think about doing,” cried Florimel, with mock imperiousness, but real tyranny. “Weel, my leddy, gien ye wull hae ’t--but hoo great a man wad ye be makin’ o’ me?” “Oh!--let me see;--yes--yes--the heir to an earldom.-- That’s liberal enough--is it not?”