"But without heeding her the old man went to the woman, and, lifting up her head, looked steadfastly in her face.
"'God in his heaven be merciful,' he cried, 'it is my daughter Bell!'
"Then the 'mounster' laughed loud and long, and wrapping his 'heckle' in a wisp of paper, he played a tune upon it with his mouth, dancing round and crying, 'There's her right for ye--ye said she hadna a right, Laird Stennis! Ye were that hard ye refused the woman room to die at your dykeside. But Bell has come hame to claim her own. Coffin and clay--coffin and clay! Sax foot of clean kirkyard sods! Faith, I wish a' Daft Jeremy's enemies had the same, nae mair and nae less. But it's as weel as it is, Laird Stennis--for Jeremy cannot be doing with grown women about the noose o' Breckonside. And it's him that
