Before Mistress Stephen had reached her home, and just as the last link
of the chain had appeared on the square, the mirth was raised to a yet
higher pitch by the sudden rush of several women to the rescue, who had
already heard the news of the ignominious abduction of their honoured
_kye_, and their shameful exposure to public ridicule. Each made for
her own four-footed property.
"Guid preserve's, Hawkie! are ye come to this?" cried Lucky Lapp, as
she limped, still and ever lame with rheumatism, towards the third
member of the procession. "Gin I had the loon that did it," she went
on, fumbling, with a haste that defeated itself, at the knot that bound
Hawkie's nose to the tail of the cadger's horse--"gin I had the loon
'at did it, I wad ding the sowl oot o' his wame, the villain!"
"Losh! it's my ain cat, as weel's my ain coo." screamed Lucky Wattles
in twofold indignation. "Gin I cud but redd (comb) the scoonrel's heid
wi' your cleuks, Baudrons!" she added, as she fondled the cat
passionately, "he wadna be in sic a doom's hurry to han'le ye again,
Is' wad (wager)."
By this time Stumpin' Steenie, having undone his cow's tail, was
leading her home amid shouts of laughter.
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