George MacDonald

The Marquis of Lossie George MacDonald

"She has had, and sail have baith, time aboot (in turn); and I houp they'll du something for her in time, sir." "Her time shall be short here, anyhow. She's not worth the sugar you give her." "Eh, sir! luik at her," said Malcolm, in a tone of expostulation, as he stepped back a few paces and regarded her with admiring eyes. "Saw ye ever sic legs? an' sic a neck? an' sic a heid? an' sic fore an' hin' quarters? She's a' bonny but the temper o' her, an' that she canna help like the likes o' you an me." "She'll be the death o' somebody some day. The sooner we get rid of her the better. Just look at that," he added, as the mare laid back her ears and made a vicious snap at nothing in particular. "She was a favourite o' my -- maister, the marquis," returned the youth, "an' I wad ill like to pairt wi' her." "I'll take any offer in reason for her," said the factor. "You'll just ride her to Forres market next week, and see what you can get for her.