Now she was mistress where he had been master; hers was to command, his to obey. In consequence they were perpetually at war. And yet he would sit for hours in the kitchen and watch her, as she went about her business, with solemn, interested eyes, half of admiration, half of amusement. In the end Maggie always turned on him with a little laugh touched with irritation.
"Han't yo' got nothin' better'n that to do, nor lookin' at me?" she asked one Saturday about a month before Cup Day.
"Then I wish yo' had. It mak's me fair jumpety yo' watchin' me so like ony cat a mouse."
"Niver yo' fash yo'sel' account o' me, ma wench," he answered calmly.
"Yo' wench, indeed!" she cried, tossing her head.
"What's that?" she cried, springing round, a flush of color on her face.
"Nowt, my dear. Yo'll know so soon as I want yo' to, yo' may be sure, and no sooner."
The girl resumed her baking, half angry, half suspicious.
"I dunno' what yo' mean, Mr. M'Adam," she said.
The rest was lost in the crash of a falling plate; whereat David laughed quietly, and asked if he should help pick up the bits.
On the same evening at the Sylvester Arms an announcement was made that knocked the breath out of its hearers.
In the debate that night on the fast-approaching Dale Trials and the relative abilities of red and gray, M'Adam on the one side, and Tammas, backed by Long Kirby and the rest, on the other, had cudgelled each other with more than usual vigor. The controversy rose to fever-heat; abuse succeeded argument; and the little man again and again was hooted into silence.
"It's easy laffin'," he cried at last, "but ye'll laff t'ither side o' yer ugly faces on Cup Day."
"Will us, indeed? Us'll see," came the derisive chorus.
"We'll whip ye till ye're deaf, dumb, and blind, Wullie and I."
The voices were rising like the east wind in March.
"Yo'll not, and for a very good reason too," asseverated Tammas loudly.
"Gie us yer reason, ye muckle liar," cried the little man, turning on him.
"Becos----" began Jim Mason and stopped to rub his nose.
"Yo' 'old yo' noise, Jim," recommended Rob Saunderson.
"Becos----" it was Tammas this time who paused.
"Git on wi' it, ye stammerin' stirk!" cried M'Adam. "Why?"
"What!" screamed the little man, thrusting forward.