The haivenly boadies is no to be restricket." Again Cosmo burst into a great laugh, and this time Grizzie, seriously alarmed lest he should be in reality fey, grew angry, and seizing hold of him by the arm, pulled lustily.
"Get up, I tell ye!" she cried.

"Here's the laird speirin' what's come o' ye,'at ye come na hame to yer tay." But Cosmo instead of rising only laughed the more, and went on until at length Grizzie made use of a terrible threat.
"As sure's sowens!" she said, "gien ye dinna haud yer tongue wi' that menseless-like lauchin', I'll no tell ye anither auld-warld tale afore Marti'mas." "Will ye tell me ane the nicht gien I haud my tongue an' gang hame wi' ye ?" "Ay, that wull I--that's gien I can min' upo' ane." He rose at once, and laughed no more.

They walked home together in the utmost peace.
After tea, his father went out with him for a stroll, and to call on Jeames Gracie, the owner of the cow whose inconstellation had so much amused him.

He was an old man, with an elderly wife, and a grand-daughter--a weaver to trade, whose father and grandfather before him had for many a decade done the weaving work, both in linen and wool, required by "them at the castle." He had been on the land, in the person of his ancestors, from time almost immemorial, though he had only a small cottage, and a little bit of land, barely enough to feed the translunar cow.

But poor little place as Jeames's was, if the laird would have sold it the price would have gone a good way towards clearing the rest of his property of its encumbrances.