Now Grizzie and Aggie, irrespective of Cosmo’s engagement, of which at the time they were unaware, had laid their heads together, and concluded that, although they could not both be at once away from the castle, they might between them, with the connivance of the bailiff, do a day’s work and earn a day’s wages; and although the grieve would certainly have listened to no such request from Grizzie in person, he was incapable of refusing it to Aggie. Hence it followed that Grizzie, in her turn that morning, was gathering to Cosmo’s scythe, hanging her labour on that of the young laird with as devoted a heart as if he had been a priest at the high altar, and she his loving acolyte. I doubt if his lordship would have just then approached Cosmo, had he noted who the woman was that went stooping along behind the late heir of the land, now a labourer upon it for the bread of his household. “Weel, Glenwarlock!” said the old man, giving a lick to the palm of his right hand as he stopped in front of the nearing mower, “ye’re a famous han’ at the scythe! The corn boos doon afore ye like the stooks to Joseph.” “I hae a guid arm an’ a sharp scythe, my lord,” answered Cosmo cheerily. “Whisht, whisht, my lord!” said Grizzie. “Gien the corn hear ye, it’ll stan’ up again an’ cry out. Hearken til ’t.” The morning had been very still, but that moment a gust of wind came and set all the corn rustling. “What! _you_ here!--Crawford, you rascal!” cried his lordship, looking round, “turn this old cat out of the field.” But he looked in vain; the grieve was nowhere in sight. “The deil sew up yer lordship’s moo’ wi’ an awn o’ beer!” (_a beard of barley_) cried Grizzie. “Haith, gien I be a cat, ye s’ hear me curse!” His lordship bethought himself that she would certainly disgrace him in the hearing of his labourers if he provoked her further, for a former encounter had revealed that she knew things not to his credit. They were all working away as if they had not an ear amongst them, but almost all of them heard every word. “Hoots, wuman!” he said, in an altered tone, “canna ye tak a jeist?” “Na; there’s ower mony o’ yer lordship’s jeists hae turnt fearsome earnest to them at tuik them!” “What mean ye, wuman?” “Wuman! quo’ he? My name’s Grisel Grant. Wha kens na auld Grizzie, ’at never turnt her back on freen’ or foe? But I’m no gaein til affront yer lordship wi’ the sicht o’ yersel’ afore fowk--sae lang, that is, as ye haud a quaiet souch. But gie the yoong laird there ony o’ the dirt ye’re aye lickin’ oot o’ yer loof, an’ the auld cat ’ll be cryin’ upo’ the hoose-tap!” “Grizzie! Grizzie!” cried Cosmo, ceasing his work and coming back to where they stood, “ye’ll ruin a’!” “What is there to ruin ’at he can ruin mair?” returned Grizzie. “Whan yer back’s to the wa’, ye canna fa’. An angry chiel’ ’ill ca’ up the deil; but an angry wife ’ll gar him rin for ’s life. When I’m angert, I fear no aiven his lordship there!”