was to him so hateful that he interfered in a very literal fashion: Kelpie had been doing no more than he made her until the earl struck her.
"Let us ride to Richmond to-morrow," said Florimel, "and have a good gallop in the park. Did you ever see a finer sight than that animal on the grass?"
"The fellow's too heavy for her," said Liftore: "I should very much like to try her myself."
Florimel pulled up and turned to Malcolm, "MacPhail," she said, "have that mare of yours ready whenever Lord Liftore chooses to ride her."
"I beg your pardon, my lady," returned Malcolm, "but would your ladyship make a condition with my lord that he shall not mount her anywhere on the stones."
"By Jove!" said Liftore scornfully, "you fancy yourself the only man that can ride."
"It's nothing to me, my lord, if you break your neck, but I am bound to tell you I do not think your lordship will sit my mare. Stoat can't, and I can only because I know her as well as my own palm."
The young earl made no answer, and they rode on, Malcolm nearer than his lordship liked.
"I can't think, Florimel," he said, "why you should want that fellow about you again. He is not only very awkward, but insolent as well."
"I should call it straightforward," returned Florimel.
"My dear Lady Lossie! See how close he is riding to us now."
"He is anxious, I dare say, as to your lordship's behavior. He is like some dogs that are a little too careful of their mistresses — touchy as to how they are addressed: not a bad fault in dog, or groom either. He saved my life once, and he was a great favorite with my father: I won't hear anything against him."
"But for your own sake — just consider: what will people say if you show any preference for a man like that?" said Liftore, who had already become jealous of the man who in his heart he feared could ride better than himself.
"My lord!" exclaimed Florimel, with a mingling of surprise and indignation in her voice, and, suddenly quickening her pace, dropped him behind.
Malcolm was after her so instantly that it brought him abreast of Liftore. "Keep your own place," said his lordship with stern rebuke.
"I keep my place to my mistress," returned Malcolm.
Liftore looked at him as if he would strike him. But he thought better of it apparently, and rode after Florimel.
CHAPTER XX.
BLUE PETER.
By the time he had put up Kelpie, Malcolm found that his only chance of seeing Blue Peter before he left London lay in going direct to the wharf. On his road he reflected on what had just passed, and was not altogether pleased with himself. He had nearly lost his temper with Liftore; and if he should act in any way unbefitting the position he had assumed, from the duties of which he was in no degree exonerated by the fact that he had assumed it for a purpose, it would not only be a failure in himself, but an impediment perhaps insurmountable in the path of his service. To attract attention was almost to ensure frustration. When he reached the wharf, he found they had nearly got her freight on board the smack. Blue Peter stood on the forecastle. He went to him and explained how it was that he had been unable to join him sooner.
"I didna ken ye," said Blue Peter, "in sic play-actor kin' o' claes."
"Nobody in London would look at me twice now." But you remember how we were stared at when first we came," said Malcolm.
"Ow, ay!" returned Peter with almost a groan. "There's a sair cheenge past upo' you, but I'm gauin' hame to the auld w'y o' things. The herrin' 'ill be aye to the fore, I'm thinkin'; an' gien we getna a harbor we'll get a h'aven."
Judging it better to take no notice of this pretty strong expression of distrust and disappointment, Malcolm led him aside, and putting a few sovereigns in his hand, said, "Here, Peter, that will take you home."
"It's ower muckle — a heap ower muckle. I'll tak naething frae ye but what'll pay my w'y."
"But what is such a trifle between friends?"
"There was a time, Ma'colm, whan what was mine was yours, an' what was yours was mine, but that time's gane."
"I'm sorry to hear that, Peter; but still I owe you as much as that for bare wages."
"There was no word o' wauges whan ye said, 'Peter, come to Lon'on wi' me.' Davie there — he maun hae his wauges."
