“Sir,” he said, “I’ve aye found the best sign of a well-bred man was that he gave credit to other folk of being as good as himself--if no better. Them that fail in that will never come up to my standard. Ye think nae doubt that ye ken better than me--but just you take warning from an auld man. I’ve seen a’ kinds. Maybe you are no aware that I was much about the world in my younger years with my lord--and my lord wasna very particular in these days, though he’s a douce man now. I’ve seen a’ kinds; but a worse kind than yon Johnson man--” “Johnson of St. Chad’s, Rankin--mind what you’re saying.” “He’s nae mair of St. Chad’s than I am! There’s both a note and a query in my paper from the real man--on a subject, it is true that he doesna understand--he goes clean against my reasoning, which to any unprejudiced mind would be mair than conclusive; but it’s dated from a place away in Wales, or somewhere far to the south of this. Na, na, yon man is nae scholar, and if ye’ll take my word for it, nae gentleman either. His name may be Johnson, but he’s just masqueradin’ in another’s local designation, and I wouldna trust him, no a fit beyond what I could see him. Ye are a very clever lad, but ye canna have the experience of the like o’ me.” “Here he is, Rankin; you may be right, but you must be civil,” Eddy said. “Ceevil! in my ain house. He kens John Rankin little that thinks it needful to tell me that. Good-morning to ye, sir,” said the gamekeeper raising his voice. “Come ben without hesitation, there’s naebody but freends here.” “Oh, friends! I don’t seek my friends in a hole like this,” said Johnson, evidently bent on showing his quality. “I’ve nearly been blown away coming along your infernal lock, and I’ve been in the mud up to my ankles on what you call the paths in the wood.” “It’s a pity,” said Rankin grimly, “that the maker of them was not mair careful to suit baith land and water to your needs.” “The maker of them,” said Johnson, “could have understood nothing about making roads--some of your country fellows that are behind in everything. Oh, you are here, Master Eddy. I’ve come to see after one of these little dogs you talk so much about.” “And what may you be wanting with a little dogue?” said Rankin, with scrupulous politeness. “I?--just what other people want I suppose. Let’s see, old gentleman, what sort you have got.” “I have no little dogues,” said the gamekeeper, folding his hands on his chest. The impulse was so strong upon him to dip into the nest, where their small conversation as they tumbled over each other was quite audible, that he had to grasp his coat with his hands, in order to refrain. “I can hear them squeaking,” said Johnson.