"And if my Walter had the arms he used to have," replied she, "it should not be long ere it was Harden's. My power hath faded. Formerly, if the Flower of Yarrow had asked Harden to give her Gilmanscleugh for a jointure, it would have been hers ere next morn heard the cock crow in Harden glen, but years bring fears." "Not to Harden, Mary, love. He knoweth not the meaning of the vile word. Your dished spurs make me as sharp-set now, as they did when the cook was the fairest maid in Yarrow.[14] It is these sheep-skin rights, lass, that prevent me from bestowing Gilmanscleugh on one of our sons." [Footnote 14: Mary Scott is well known to have been as famous for the cooking of spurs as for her beauty.] "She who cooks Rippon steel, Wat, needeth a fire," replied she. "Charters will burn. I'll give ye the spurs, if ye'll give me the parchment. It will roast one of Gilmanscleugh's kye." "But I have no cause of quarrel, Mary," said Harden. "If I were to swear on the altar at Melrose," replied she, laughing, "that Harden, wishing cows, asked for a cause, there wouldn't a simpleton on the Borders believe my oath. Where be thy wits, Wat? What better cause of quarrel need ye now than you ever did--a good hanger?" "You would not have me kill my kinsman, Mary, to get his lands for our son? By the moon of our armorials, I've slain enough. Nothing now will make me take a man's life but anger, unless he be an Englishman, and then I'll do it for love." "There is no use for killing," rejoined she, "I'll give ye the steel feast in the morning, and set ye forth for Gilmanscleugh kine. Take them all, with the pet lamb that frisks before the door, on the green lea, and if this do not make Scott complain, I had no title to be called the Flower of Yarrow. If he complain, ye want no more. Ranshakle the house, bring me the parchment rights, and I'll have a fire 'bleezing bonnilie.' One who hath cooked spurs may cook parchment." "But there may be copies, Mary--doubles o' the rights," said Wat. "Aweel, my fire's big enough," answered she. "I've seen ye take fivescore o' sheep in one night, and the deil's in't if ye cannot take two skins." "Good faith, but thou'rt the Flower o' the Yarrow rievers, Mary! Now, tell me where I shall get a property for our remaining son?" "Gilmanscleugh may serve them both," replied she. These last words were spoken by Mary as she went out of the room; and Walter, having no opportunity of asking what she meant (though, indeed, she meant nothing more than that the property might be large enough to serve both), continued to mutter the words for a time, with a view to ask her for an explanation. "Gilmanscleugh may serve them both," he repeated. "The woman hath gone mad. It is not enough for one of them. Has she lost the spirit of our house, and brought down her ambition to a mailing? By my faith, Dryhope itself will make up the deficiency; and, if nothing else can be got, Dryhope shall be taken for my youngest."