“Cod haf mercy!” cried Duncan. “Take her pipes, my laty, for fear anything paad should happen to tem.”
She led him hurriedly to the door. But ere he had quite crossed the threshold he shivered and drew back.
“Tis is an efil house,” he said. “She’ll not can co in.” A great floundering racket was going on above, mingled with growls and shrieks, but there was no howling.
“Call the dog then. He will mind you, perhaps,” she cried—knowing what a slow business an argument with Duncan was—and flew to the stair.
“Temon! Temon!” cried Duncan, with agitated voice. Whether the dog thought his friend was in trouble next, I cannot tell, but down he came that instant, with a single bound from the top of the stair, right over his mistress’s head as she was running up, and leaping out to Duncan, laid a paw upon each of his shoulders, panting with out-lolled tongue.
But the piper staggered back, pushing the dog from him.
“It is plood!” he cried; “ta efil woman’s plood!”
“Keep him out, Duncan dear,” said Lady Florimel. “I will go and see. There! he’ll be up again if you don’t mind!”
Very reluctant, yet obedient, the bard laid hold of the growling animal by the collar; and Lady Florimel was just turning to finish her ascent of the stair and see what dread thing had come to pass, when, to her great joy, she heard Malcolm’s voice, calling from the farther end of the street—
“Hey, daddy! What’s happened ’at I dinna hear the pipes?”