“Ye're no meanin'--man,--ye hev it; the body did buy ane, an' he 'ill be wantin' twa or three notes on the bargain; Milton's a fair scannal in the Glen,” and Hillocks's countenance, a near enough man in season himself, was full of scorn. “A'm astonished at ye,” and Jamie eyed Hillocks with severity; “div ye no ken that Milton is the only man in the Glen that hes ony licht ava? he's sae releegious that a' never herd o' him daein' a dirty trick, but his conscience telt him. It 'ill cost five notes tae mak his duty plain.” “If Milton disna gie back the beast at the roup price, in the circumstances-” “Aye, aye, Drumsheugh,” said Hillocks encouragingly. “Weel, he needna show his face in the Kil-drummie train, that's a'; ye have yir aucht complete noo, Hillocks, an' a 'll cast ma mind ower the implements in the sermon.” “A 'll drive doon the twa stirks the mom's morn,” for Whinnie was anxious to show his zeal. “Ye 'll dae naethin' o' the kind,” responded Jamie. “Burnbrae's plenishing gaed awa in a day, and it 'ill gae back in a day. Drumsheugh, ye begun the wark, and ye 'ill hae tae feenish it.” “A 'll dae the Glen by Wednesday nicht, arf a'thing 'ill need tae be hame by Thursday, or Burnbrae'ill be in at Muirtown on Friday githerin' stock. Ye 'ill keep a quiet tongue, neeburs.” “Lippen (trust) tae that, Drumsheugh,” Jamie answered; “it's easier than speakin' in Drumtochty.” Drumsheugh was wrapped in thought till the Doctor came to the application, when his face lightened, and he took snuff with leisurely satisfaction. “There wes a set o' harrows,” he admitted to Jamie afterwards, “near beat me; they're doon Dunleith wy, but a'll hae a haud o'them.” For three days the Glen was full of mystery, and the latest news of the campaign could be had at the smiddy. Saunders, Drumsheugh's foreman, came with some machine teeth on Monday evening, and brought the first intelligence. “The maister's in frae the wast end, and he's no hed a single refusal; yon Dunleith fairmer that cam on the dun sheltie (pony) wes that pleased at Brunbrae getting his fairm again, he offered back the harrows himsel, and is tae send up a single ploo an' a pair o' fanners 'at gied doon yon wy. “Drumsheugh's tae be oot at five the morn, an' he's expeckin' tae sweep the Glen,” and Saunders struck a match with emphasis. “It beats a',” said the smith, amazed at Saunders's continued speech; “the Glen's fair roosed.” On Wednesday evening Drumsheugh was his own messenger, but would only speak in parables. “Gin this weather keeps on, they 'ill be cuttin' roads for the machines by the end o' the week.... A 'll need tae be aff, it's gettin' late, and a've hed twa days o't.... There 's a fell puckle fairms in the pairish, aince ye gae roond them....