‘Seven pound! Seven pounds! Will nane o’ you speak? Will I hae to bide here a’ the day crying on ye? Seven pound, I tell ye! Seven pound!’ ‘Seven pound five,’ said a slow voice from behind a haystack. ‘I canna see ye, but you’re a grand man for a’ that,’ cried the auctioneer, ‘an’ I wish there was mair like ye.’ ‘Seven ten,’ said Jimmy Stirk. ‘Aicht,’ continued the man behind the haystack. Though Gilbert knew lot fifty-seven to be worth more than all the money in Jimmy’s palm, he hoped that the beast’s extreme unsuitability to the requirements of those present might tell in the lad’s favour. The price rose to eight pound ten. ‘Nine,’ said Jimmy. ‘And ten to that,’ came from the haystack. ‘Ten pound,’ said the boy, taking a step forward. There was a pause, and the auctioneer held up his crook. ‘Ten pounds!’ he cried. ‘He’s awa at ten pounds! Ane, twa----’ ‘Ten pound ten!’ shouted Davie MacLunder. Jimmy Stirk turned away, bitter disappointment in his face. In spite of his nineteen years and strong hands, his eyes were filling. No one knew how earnestly he had longed for the little horse. ‘Eleven,’ said Gilbert. ‘Eleven ten!’ ‘Twelve.’ The auctioneer raised his crook again, and threw a searching glance round. ‘Twelve pound! Twelve pound! Twelve pound for the last time! Ane, twa, three----’ The crook came down with a bang. ‘Twelve pound. The laird of Whanland.’ ‘He is yours,’ said Speid, taking the bewildered Jimmy by the elbow. ‘Your grandmother was very civil to me the first time I saw her, and I am glad to be able to oblige her.’ The boy looked at him in amazement. Gilbert had slipped some money into his pocket before starting for the sale; he held the two gold pieces out to him. ‘You can take him home with you now,’ he said, smiling. Jimmy Stirk left the ‘roup’ in an internal exultation which had no outward nor visible sign but an additional intensity of aspect, the halter which had hung over his arm adorning the head of the little brown horse, on whose back he jogged recklessly through the returning crowd. His interest in the sale had waned the moment he had become owner of his prize; but his grandmother, who had set out to enjoy herself and meant to do so thoroughly, had insisted on his staying to the end. She kept her seat at the foot of the wood-pile till the last lot had changed hands, using her tongue effectively on all who interfered with her, and treating her grandson with a severity which was her way of marking her sense of his good fortune.