in a mountainous rage with “ta low-pred hount of a factor.” Her sympathy was enthusiastic, for they shared a common wrath. And now came the tale of the factor’s cruelty to the fishers, his hatred of Malcolm, and his general wildness of behaviour. The piper vowed to shed the last drop of his blood in defence of his Mistress Partan. But when, to strengthen the force of his asseveration, he drew the dangerous-looking dirk from its sheath, she threw herself upon him, wrenched it from his hand, and testified that “fules sudna hae chappin’-sticks, nor yet teylors guns.” It was days before Duncan discovered where she had hidden it. But not the less heartily did she insist on his taking up his abode with her; and the very next day he resumed his old profession of lamp-cleaner to the community. [Footnote 3: or _skene dhu_] When Miss Horn heard that he had come and where he was, old feud with Meg Partan rendering it imprudent to call upon him, she watched for him in the street, and welcomed him home, assuring him that, if ever he should wish to change his quarters, her house was at his service. “I’m nae Cam’ell, ye ken, Duncan,” she concluded, “an’ what an auld wuman like mysel’ can du to mak ye coamfortable sall no fail, an’ that I promise ye.” The old man thanked her with the perfect courtesy of the Celt, confessed that he was not altogether at ease where he was, but said he must not hurt the feelings of Mistress Partan, “for she’ll not pe a paad womans,” he added, “but her house will pe aalways in ta flames, howefer.” So he remained where he was, and the general heart of the Seaton was not a little revived by the return of one whose presence reminded them of a better time, when no such cloud as now threatened them heaved its ragged sides above their horizon. The factor was foolish enough to attempt inducing Meg to send her guest away. “We want no landloupin’ knaves, old or young, about Lossie,” he said. “If the place is no keepit dacent, we’ll never get the young marchioness to come near ’s again.” “’Deed, factor,” returned Meg, enhancing the force of her utterance by a composure marvellous from it’s rarity, “the first thing to mak the place--I’ll no say dacent, sae lang ’s there’s sae mony claverin’ wives in ’t, but mair dacent nor it has been for the last ten year, wad be to sen’ factors back whaur they cam frae.” “And whaur may that be?” asked Mr Crathie. “That’s mair nor I richtly can say,” answered Meg Partan, “but auld-farand fouk threepit it was somewhaur ’ithin the swing o’ Sawtan’s tail.” The reply on the factor’s lips as he left the house, tended to justify the rude sarcasm. CHAPTER LVI. MID-OCEAN.