“What do you mean? I want to see Menie,” exclaimed Randall, with considerable haste and eagerness. “Do you mean to say she does not want to see me? I have never been avoided before. What does she mean?” “Ay, my lad, that’s right,” said Jenny; “think of yoursel just, like a man, afore ye gie a kindly thocht to her, and her in trouble. It’s like you a’; it’s like the haill race and lineage o’ ye, father and son. No that I’m meaning ony ill to auld Crofthill; but nae doubt he’s a man like the lave.” Randall lifted his hand impatiently, waving her away. “I wouldna wonder?” cried Jenny. “I wouldna wonder--no me. She’s owre mony about that like her, has she?--it’ll be my turn to gang my ways, and no trouble the maister. You would like to get her, now she’s in her flower: you would like to take her up and carry her away, and put her in a cage, like a puir bit singing-burdie, to be a pleasure to you. What are you courting my bairn for? It’s a’ for your ain delight and pleasure, because ye canna help but be glad at the sight o’ her, a darling as she is; because ye would like to get her to yoursel, like a piece o’land; because she would be something to you to be maister and lord of, to make ye the mair esteemed in ither folks’ een, and happier for yoursel. Man, I’ve carried her miles o’ gate in thae very arms o’ mine. I’ve watched her grow year to year, till there’s no ane like her in a’ the countryside. Is’t for mysel?--she canna be Jenny’s wife--she canna be Jenny’s ain born bairn? But Jenny would put down her neck under the darling’s fit, if it was to gie her pleasure--and here’s a strange lad comes that would set away _me_.” But Jenny’s vehemence was touched with such depth of higher feeling as to exalt it entirely out of the region of the “fuff.” With a hasty and trembling hand she dashed away some tears out of her eyes. “I’m no to make a fule o’ mysel afore _him_,” muttered Jenny, drawing a hard breath through her dilated nostrils. Randall, with some passion, and much scorn in his face, had drawn back a little to listen. Now he took up his hat hurriedly. “If you are done, you will let me pass, perhaps,” he said angrily. “This is absurd, you know--let me pass. I warn you I will not quarrel with Menie for all the old women in the world.” “If it’s me, you’re welcome to ca’ me names,” said Jenny, fiercely. “I daur ye to say a word o’ the mistress--on your peril. Miss Menie pleases to be her lane. I tell you Miss Menie’s out-by; and I would like to ken what call ony mortal has to disturb the puir lassie in her distress, when she wants to keep it to hersel. He doesna hear me--he’s gane the very way she gaed,” said Jenny, softening, as he burst past her out of sight. “I’ll no say I think ony waur o’ him for that; but waes me, waes me--what’s to come out o’t a’, but dismay and distress to my puir bairn?”