“Weel, man!” said the laird, with a laugh that had in it just a touch of scorn, “gien the thing be sae plain, what gars ye gang that gait aboot the buss to say ’t? Du ye tak me and Cosmo here for bairns ’at wad fa’ a greetin’ gien ye tellt them their ba-lamb wasna a leevin’ ane--naething but a fussock o’ cotton-’oo’, rowed roon’ a bit stick? We’re naither o’ ’s complimentit.--Come, Cosmo. --I’m nane the less obleeged to ye, Jeames,” he added as he rose, “though I cud weel wuss yer opingon had been sic as wad hae pitten ’t i’ my pooer to offer ye a fee for ’t.” “The less said aboot that the better, laird,” replied Jeames with imperturbability, and his large, silent smile; “the trowth’s the trowth, whether it’s paid for or no. But afore ye gang it’s but fair to tell ye--only I wadna like to be hauden ower strickly accoontable for the opingon, seein’ its no my profession, as they ca’ ’t, but I hae dune my best, an gien I be i’ the wrang, I naither hae nor had ony ill design intil ’t.--” “Bless my soul!” cried the laird, with more impatience than Cosmo had ever seen him show, “is the man mad, or does he take me for a fool?” “There’s some things, laird,” resumed Jeames, “that hae to be approcht oontil, wi’ circumspection an’ a proaper regaird to the impression they may mak. Noo, disclaimin’ ony desire to luik like an ill-bred scoon’rel, whilk I wad raither luik to onybody nor to yersel’, laird, I ventur to jaloose ’at maybe the maitter o’ a feow poun’s micht be o’ some consequence to ye,--” “Ilka fule i’ the country kens that ’at kens Glenwarlock,” interrupted the laird, and turned hastily. “Come, Cosmo.” Cosmo went to open the door, troubled to see his father annoyed with the unintelligibility of the man. “Weel, gien ye _wull_ gang,” said Jeames, “I maun jist tak my life i’ my han’, an’--” “Hoot, man! tak yer tongue i’ yer teeth; it’ll be mair to the purpose,” cried the laird laughing, for he had got over his ill humour already. “My life i’ my han’, quo’ he!--Man, I haena carriet a dirk this mony a day! I laid it aff wi’ the kilt.” “Weel, it micht be the better ’at ye hadna, gien ye binna gaein hame afore nicht, for I saw some cairds o’ the ro’d the day.--Ance mair, gien ye wad but hearken til ane ’at confesses he oucht to ken, even sud he be i’ the wrang, I tell ye that horsie is _not_ siller--na, nor naething like it.” “Plague take the man!--what is it, then?” cried the laird. “What for didna ye speir that at me afore?” rejoined Jeames. “It wad hae gien me leeberty to tell ye--to the best o’ my abeelity that is. Whan I’m no cocksure--an’ its ower muckle a thing to be cocksure aboot--I wadna volunteer onything. I wadna say naething till I was adjured like an evil speerit.” “Weel,” quoth the laird, entering now into the humour of the thing, “herewith I adjure thee, thou contrairy and inarticulate speerit, that thou tell me whereof and of what substance this same toy-horse is composed, manufactured, or made up.”