His lordship had been standing by his lodge on the outlook, and when he saw Grizzie approaching, had started to encounter her. As she drew near he stopped, and stood in the path motionless. On she came till within a single pace of him. He did not move. She stopped. “I doobt, my lord,” she said, “I’ll hae to mak the ro’d a bit wider. There’s hardly room for yer lordship an’ anither. But I’m gettin’ on fine!” “Is the woman an idiot!” exclaimed his lordship. “Muckle siclike ’s yersel’, my lord!” answered Grizzie;--“no that muckle wit, but I micht hae mair, to guide my steps throu’ the wilderness ye wad mak o’ no an ill warl’.” “Are you aware, woman, that you have made yourself liable to a heavy fine for trespass? This field is mine!” “An’ this fitpath’s mine, my lord--made wi’ my ain feet, an’ I coonsel ye to stan’ aside, an’ lat me by.” “Woman, you are insolent.” “Troth, I needna yer lordship to tell me that! Nane the less ae auld wife may say ’at she likes til anither.” “I tell you there is no thoroughfare here.” “An’ I tell you there _is_ a thoroughfare, an’ ye hae but to wull the trowth to ken ’at there is. There was a ro’d here lang or yer lordship’s father was merried upo’ yer lordship’s mither, an’ the law--what o’ ’t yer lordship hasna the makin’ o’--is deid agen ye: that I can priv. Hae me up: I can tak my aith as weel ’s onybody whan I’m sure.” “I will do so; but in the meantime you must get off my property.” “Weel, stan’ by, an’ I s’ be aff o’ ’t in less time nor yer lordship.” “You must go back.” “Hooly an’ fairly! Bide till the gloamin’, an’ I s’ gang back--never fear. I’ the mids o’ the meantime I’m gaein’ aff o’ yer property the nearest gait--an’ that’s straucht efter my nose.” She tried, for the tenth time or so, to pass, but turn as she might, he confronted her. She persevered. He raised the stick he carried, perhaps involuntarily, perhaps thinking to intimidate her. Then was the air rent with such an outcry of assault as grievously shook the nerves of his lordship. “Hold your tongue, you howling jade!” he cried--and the epithet sufficed to destroy every possible remnant of forbearance in the mind of Grizzie. “There’s them ’at tells me, my lord,” she said with sudden calm, “’at that’s hoo ye misca’d Annie Fyfe, puir lass, whan she cam efter ye, fifty year ago, to yer father’s hoose, an’ gat na a plack to haud her an’ her bairn frae the roadside! Ye needna girn like that, my lord! Spare yer auld teeth for the gnashin’ they’ll _hae_ to du. --Though ye fear na God nor regaird man, yer hoor’ll come, an’ yer no like to bid it walcome.”