He made
lamentable work with the needle. It slipped and pricked his fingers,
while his unfeeling friends jeered and Tam turned great eyes of sympathy
upwards from his Sunday garments.
"Patience, patience, man!" said the old herd. "Ca' cannier and be a wee
thing quieter in your langwidge. There's a wheen leddies comin' up the
burn."
It was too late. Before Lewis understood the purport of the speech Lady
Manorwater and her party were at the folds, and as he made one final
effort with the refractory needle a voice in his ear said:
"Please let me do that, Mr. Haystoun. I've often done it before."
He looked up and met Alice Wishart's laughing eyes. She stood beside
him and deftly finished the bandage till the ewe was turned off the
stool. Then, very warm and red, he turned to find a cool figure
laughing at his condition.
"I'll have to go and wash my hands, Miss Wishart," he said gravely.
"You had better come too." And the pair ran down to a deep brown pool in
the burn and cleansed from their fingers the subtle aroma of fleeces.
"Ugh! my clothes smell like a drover's. That's the worst of being a
dabbler in most trades. You can never resist the temptation to try your
hand."
"But, really, your whole manner was most professional, Mr. Haystoun.
Your language--"
"Please, don't," said the penitent; and they returned to the others to
find that once cheerful assembly under a cloud.
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