Duncan understood the position of the sun and what it signified, as well as the clearest-eyed man in Port Lossie, but he could not afford to yield. “It was peing some conspeeracy of ta cursit Cawmills, to make her loss her poor pension,” he said. “Put nefer you mind, Malcolm; I’ll pe making up for ta plunder ta morrow mornin’. Ta coot peoples shall haf teir sleeps a whole hour after tey ought to be at teir works.” CHAPTER IX. THE SALMON-TROUT. Malcolm walked up through the town with his fish, hoping to part with some of the less desirable of them, and so lighten his basket, before entering the grounds of Lossie House. But he had met with little success, and was now approaching the town-gate, as they called it, which closed a short street at right angles to the principal one, when he came upon Mrs Catanach--on her knees, cleaning her doorstep. “Weel, Malcolm, what fish hae ye?” she said, without looking up. “Hoo kent ye it was me, Mistress Catanach?” asked the lad. “Kent it was you!” she repeated. “Gien there be but twa feet at ance in ony street o’ Portlossie, I’ll tell ye whase heid’s abune them, an’ my een steekit (_closed_).” “Hoot! ye’re a witch, Mistress Catanach!” said Malcolm merrily. “That’s as may be,” she returned, rising, and nodding mysteriously; “I hae tauld ye nae mair nor the trowth. But what garred ye whup ’s a’ oot o’ oor nakit beds by five o’clock i’ the mornin’, this mornin’, man! That’s no what ye’re paid for.” “Deed, mem, it was jist a mistak’ o’ my puir daddy’s. He had been feart o’ sleepin’ ower lang, ye see, an’ sae had waukit ower sune. I was oot efter the fish mysel’.” “But ye fired the gun ’gen the chap (_before the stroke_) o’ five.” “Ow, ay! I fired the gun. The puir man wod hae bursten himsel’ gien I hadna.” “Deil gien he _had_ bursten himsel’--the auld heelan’ sholt!” exclaimed Mrs Catanach spitefully. “Ye sanna even sic words to my gran’father, Mrs Catanach,” said Malcolm with rebuke. She laughed a strange laugh. “_Sanna!_” she repeated contemptuously. “An’ wha’s _your_ gran’father, that I sud tak tent (_heed_) hoo I wag my tongue ower _his_ richteousness?” Then, with a sudden change of her tone to one of would-be friendliness-- “But what’ll ye be seekin’ for that bit sawmon-trooty, man?” she said. As she spoke she approached his basket, and would have taken the fish in her hands, but Malcolm involuntarily drew back. “It’s gauin’ to the Hoose to my lord’s brakfast,” he said. “Hoots! ye’ll jist lea’ the troot wi’ me.--Ye’ll be seekin’ a saxpence for ’t, I reckon,” she persisted, again approaching the basket. “I tell ye, Mistress Catanach,” said Malcolm, drawing back now in the fear that if she once had it she would not yield it again, “it’s gauin’ up to the Hoose!” “Hoots! there’s naebody there seen ’t yet. It’s new oot o’ the watter.” “But Mistress Courthope was doon last nicht, an’ wantit the best I cud heuk.”