“Oh, ay,” he said, “it’s no an ill specimen. Here’s”--and he dived once more into the hidden reservoir from whence came a sort of infantile murmur which had puzzled the visitors at first--“another. It’s a variety. Now ye see the twa kinds: them that are no licht in the colour are dark. I could scarcely gie ye my opinion which is the bonniest: What’s ca’ed the Skye breed are just the sauvage dougs that would have eaten up the country by this time if they hadna received a check by being made leddies’ pets of. One o’ my name was the first to tak’ the business in hand, and improve the breed. Yon lang, low-bodied creaturs, with nae legs to speak of, are the original stock, as the wild bushes are the stock of the rose tribe. My anes are an awfu’ improvement in pint o’ symmetry--and temper too. They have langer legs and no sae short a temper. Ye’ll hear a’ the world ower of the Rosmore breed. It’s just celebrated from one end o’ the country to anither. Lady Jean she was aye coming with orders; but I’m no fond of taking orders especially from foreign countries, like England and the like. I canna bide to send my dougs where they are ill fed or kept careless. There was ae lady that let twa o’ them, ane after the ither, get lost. She was a friend o’ the minister. I canna understand decent folk keeping on with sic friends. And as for the feeding o’ them, leddies are just maist inveterate, and ruins their health, whatever I can say. They’ll feed my doggies, just fresh from their guid halesome parridge, with sweet biscuits and bits of sugar, and every silly thing they can think of, and syne they’ll write and say the dougs are delicate. Naething of the kind! the dougs are nane delicate. It’s just the traitment; if you can think o’ onything mair foolish than that--beasts used to guid fresh country air, shut up in rooms with carpets and dirt of a’ kinds, and when they’re dowie and aff their meat, a dose o’ strong physic! And they ca’ that a kind home. I ca’ it just murder! and that’s a’ I’ve got to say.” Rankin had worked himself to a point of vehemence which brought the moisture in great drops to his forehead, for the day was warm and so was the fire. But it cannot be said that his visitors were much affected by it. Sandy the groom, indeed, formed a sympathetic audience, but Archie and Marion were too young and foolish to be interested in the old gamekeeper. They played with the puppies, each choosing one. Marion held fast the one of light colour--Archie secured the dark grey. Their comments on their respective prizes ran on through Rankin’s speech. “Mine’s the bonniest!”--“No, I like mine best. Look at its funny little face.”--“Mine has no een at all--just a little spark out under the hair.”--“And look, the little brick that it is, showing fight,” said Archie in great triumph and elation.