"Wilt sell him me?" asked the Warden's brother, who loved a good horse if only he could get him cheaply. "I will give thee ten pounds for him, and a milk cow into the bargain." "Say twenty pounds," said Dick contemptuously, "and keep thy word about the milk cow, else the horse goes with me to Morton Fair." Now the Warden's brother needed the horse, and, besides, it was not dear even at twenty pounds, so he paid down the money, and told the fool where to go for the milk cow. An hour later Dick appeared at his own cottage door, and shouted for his wife. She rubbed her eyes and blinked with astonishment when she saw her husband mounted on a good black horse, and driving two fat milk cows before him. Like everyone else, she had always counted him a fool, and had never looked for much help from him. So the loss of the three cows had been a serious matter to her, for the money which their milk brought had done much towards keeping up the house, and clothing the children. "Here, woman," he cried joyously, leaping from his horse, and emptying the gold out of his pockets into her apron. "Thou madest a great to-do over thy coverlets, but I trow that forty pounds of good red money will pay for them fully, and the three cows which we lost were but thin, starved creatures, compared with these two that I have brought back, and here is a good horse into the bargain." It all seemed too good to be true, and Dick's wife rubbed her eyes once more. "Take care that they be not taken from thee," she said. "Methinks the Armstrongs will demand vengeance." "They will not get it from My Lord of Scroope," answered Dick, "for 'twas he who gave me leave to go and steal from them. But mayhap we live too near the Borders for our own comfort, now that we are so rich. When a man hath made his fortune by his wits, as I have, he deserves a little peace in his old age. What wouldst thou think of going further South into Westmoreland, and taking up house near thy mother's kinsfolk?" "I would think 'twas the wisest plan that ever entered that silly pate of thine," answered his wife, who had never liked to live in such an unsettled region. So they packed up their belongings, and, getting leave from Lord Scroope, they went to live at Burghunder-Stanmuir, where they passed for quite rich and clever people. THE HEIR OF LINNE "Lithe and listen, gentlemen, To sing a song I will beginne; It is of a lord of faire Scotland, Which was the unthrifty heire of Linne."