--Will this do, Muhme?"
"It must," said the old woman--"that is, if the Lowlander is mad
enough to carry the knife."
The strong Westlandman laughed aloud.
"Goodwife," said he, "I am Hugh Morrison from Glenae, come of the
Manly Morrisons of auld lang syne, that never took short weapon
against a man in their lives. And neither needed they. They had
their broadswords, and I have this bit supple"--showing a
formidable cudgel; "for dirking ower the board, I leave that to
John Highlandman.--Ye needna snort, none of you Highlanders, and
you in especial, Robin. I'll keep the bit knife, if you are
feared for the auld spaewife's tale, and give it back to you
whenever you want it."
Robin was not particularly pleased with some part of Hugh
Morrison's speech; but he had learned in his travels more
patience than belonged to his Highland constitution originally,
and he accepted the service of the descendant of the Manly
Morrisons without finding fault with the rather depreciating
manner in which it was offered.
"If he had not had his morning in his head, and been but a
Dumfriesshire hog into the boot, he would have spoken more like a
gentleman.
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