As he spoke Mr Crathie would have forced his way into
the dusky chamber, where he could just perceive a
motionless undefined form. But stiff as a statue
Malcolm kept his stand, and the door was immovable.
Mr Crathie gave a second and angrier push, but the
youth’s corporeal as well as his mental equilibrium
was hard to upset, and his enemy drew back in mounting
fury.
“Get out of there,” he cried, “or
I’ll horsewhip you for a damned blackguard.”
“Whup awa’,” said Malcolm, “but
in here ye s’ no come the nicht.”
The factor rushed at him, his heavy whip upheaved—and
the same moment found himself, not in the room, but
lying on the flower bed in front of it. Malcolm
instantly stepped out, locked the door, put the key
in his pocket, and turned to assist him. But he
was up already, and busy with words unbefitting the
mouth of an elder of the kirk.
“Didna I say ‘at ye sudna come in, sir?
What for wull fowk no tak’ a tellin’?”
expostulated Malcolm.
But the factor was far beyond force of logic or illumination
of reason. He raved and swore.
“Get oot o’ my sicht,” he cried,
“or I’ll shot ye like a tyke.”
“Gang an’ fess yer gun,” said Malcolm,
“an’ gien ye fin’ me waitin’
for ye, ye can lat at me.”
The factor uttered a horrible imprecation on himself
if he did not make him pay dearly for his behaviour.
“Hoots, sir! Be asham’t o’
yersel’. Gang hame to the mistress, an’
I s’ be up the morn’s mornin’ for
my wages.”
“If ye set foot on the grounds again, I’ll
set every dog in the place upon you.”
Malcolm laughed.
“Gien I was to turn the order the ither gait,
wad they min’ you or me, div ye think, Maister
Crathie?”
“Give me that key, and go about your business.”
“Na, na, sir! What my lord gae me I s’
keep—for a’ the factors atween this
an’ the Land’s En’,” returned
Malcolm. “An’ for lea’in’
the place, gien I be na in your service, Maister Crathie,
I’m nae un’er your orders. I’ll
gang whan it shuits me. An’ mair yet, ye
s’ gang oot o’ this first, or I s’
gar ye, an that ye’ll see.”
It was a violent proceeding, but for a matter of manners
he was not going to risk what of her good name poor
Lizzy had left: like the books of the Sibyl,
that grew in value. He made, however, but one
threatful stride towards the factor, for the great
man turned and fled.
The moment he was out of sight, Malcolm unlocked the
door, led Lizzy out, and brought her through the tunnel
to the sands. There he left her, and set out
for Scaurnose.
The door of Blue Peter’s cottage was opened
by his sister. Not much at home in the summer,
when she carried fish to the country, she was very
little absent in the winter, and as there was but one
room for all uses, except the closet bedroom and the
garret at the top of the ladder, Malcolm, instead
of going in, called to his friend, whom he saw by
the fire with his little Phemy upon his knee, to come
out and speak to him.
