Very reluctant, yet obedient, the bard laid hold of the growling animal by the collar; and Lady Florimel was just turning to finish her ascent of the stair and see what dread thing had come to pass, when, to her great joy, she heard Malcolm’s voice, calling from the farther end of the street-- “Hey, daddy! What’s happened ’at I dinna hear the pipes?” She rushed out, the pipes dangling from her hand, so that the drone trailed on the ground behind her. “Malcolm! Malcolm!” she cried; and he was by her side in scarcely more time than Demon would have taken. Hurriedly and rather incoherently, she told him what had taken place. He sprang up the stair, and she followed. In the front garret--with a dormer-window looking down into the street--stood Mrs Catanach facing the door, with such a malignant rage in her countenance that it looked demoniacal. Her dog lay at her feet with his throat torn out. As soon as she saw Malcolm, she broke into a fury of vulgar imprecation--most of it quite outside the pale of artistic record. “Hoots! for shame, Mistress Catanach!” he cried, “Here’s my leddy ahin’ me, hearin’ ilka word!” “Deil stap her lugs wi’ brunstane! What but a curse wad she hae frae me? I sweir by God I s’ gar her pey for this, or my name’s no ----” She stopped suddenly. “I thocht as muckle,” said Malcolm with a keen look. “Ye’ll think twise, ye deil’s buckie, or ye think richt! Wha are ye to think? What sud my name be but Bawby Catanach? Ye’re unco upsettin’ sin’ ye turned my leddy’s flunky! Sorrow taik ye baith! My dawtit Beauty!--worriet by that hell-tyke o’ hers!” “Gien ye gang on like that, the markis’ll hae ye drummed oot o’ the toon or twa days be ower,” said Malcolm. “Wull he than?” she returned with a confident sneer, showing all the teeth she had left. “Ye’ll be far ben wi’ the markis, nae doobt! An’ yon donnert auld deevil ye ca’ yer gran’father ’ill be fain eneuch to be drummer, I’ll sweir. Care’s my case!” “My leddy, she’s ower ill-tongued for you to hearken till,” said Malcolm, turning to Florimel who stood in the door, white and trembling. “Jist gang doon, an’ tell my gran’father to sen’ the dog up. There’s surely some gait o’ garrin’ her haud her tongue!” Mrs Catanach threw a terrified glance towards Lady Florimel. “Indeed I shall do nothing of the kind!” replied Florimel. “For shame!” “Hoots, my leddy!” returned Malcolm; “I only said it to try the effec’ o’ ’t. It seems no that ill.” “Ye son o’ a deevil’s soo!” cried the woman; “I s’ hae amen’s o’ ye for this, gien I sud ro’st my ain hert to get it.” “’Deed, but ye’re duin’ that fine a’ready! That foul brute o’ yours has gotten _his_ arles (_earnest_) tu. I wonner what he thinks o sawmon-troot noo!--Eh, mem?” “Have done, Malcolm,” said Florimel. “I am ashamed of you. If the woman is not hurt, we have no business in her house.” “Hear till her!” cried Mrs Catanach contemptuously. “_The woman!_”