“I ken what I mean mysel’, an’ ane that’s no content wi’ that, bude (_behoved_) ill be a howdie (_midwife_). I wad fain hae gotten a fancy oot o’ my heid that’s been there this mony a lang day; but please yersel’, mem, gien ye winna be neebourly.” “Ye s’ no gang near her--no to save ye frae a’ the ill dreams that ever gethered aboot a sin-stappit (_stuffed_) bowster!” cried Miss Horn, and drew down her long upper lip in a strong arch. “Ca cannie! ca cannie! (_drive gently_),” said Bawby. “Dinna anger me ower sair, for I _am_ but mortal. Fowk tak a heap frae you, Miss Horn, ’at they’ll tak frae nane ither, for your temper’s weel kent, an’ little made o’; but it’s an ill-faured thing to anger the howdie --sae muckle lies upo’ _her_; an’ I’m no i’ the tune to put up wi’ muckle the nicht. I wonner at ye bein’ sae oonneebour-like--at sic a time tu, wi’ a corp i’ the hoose!” “Gang awa--gang oot o ’t: it’s _my_ hoose,” said Miss Horn, in a low, hoarse voice, restrained from rising to tempest pitch only by the consciousness of what lay on the other side of the ceiling above her head. “I wad as sune lat a cat intill the deid-chaumer to gang loupin’ ower the corp, or may be waur, as I wad lat yersel’ intill ’t Bawby Catanach; an’ there’s till ye!” At this moment the opportune entrance of Jean afforded fitting occasion to her mistress for leaving the room without encountering the dilemma of either turning the woman out--a proceeding which the latter, from the way in which she set her short, stout figure square on the floor, appeared ready to resist--or of herself abandoning the field in discomfiture: she turned and marched from the kitchen with her head in the air, and the gait of one who had been insulted on her own premises. She was sitting in the parlour, still red-faced and wrathful, when Jean entered, and, closing the door behind her, drew near to her mistress, bearing a narrative, commenced at the door, of all she had seen, heard, and done, while “oot an’ aboot i’ the toon.” But Miss Horn interrupted her the moment she began to speak. “Is that wuman furth the hoose, Jean?” she asked, in the tone of one who waited her answer in the affirmative as a preliminary condition of all further conversation. “She’s gane, mem,” answered Jean--adding to herself in a wordless thought, “I’m no sayin’ _whaur_.” “She’s a wuman I wadna hae ye throng wi’, Jean.” “I ken no ill o’ her, mem,” returned Jean. “She’s eneuch to corrup’ a kirkyaird!” said her mistress, with more force than fitness.