CHAPTER XXIV.
THE SECOND FLOUTING OF MAUD LINDESAY Sholto MacKim stood on the lowest step of the ascent into the noble gateway of Thrieve, hardly able to believe in his own good fortune.
But these were the days when no man awaked without having the possibility of either a knighthood or the gallows tree to encourage him to do his duty between dawn and dark.
The lords of Douglas had gone within, and were now drinking the Cup of Appetite as their armour was being unbraced by the servitors, and the chafed limbs rubbed with oil and vinegar after the toils of the tourney.

But still Sholto stood where his master had left him, looking at the green scum of duckweed which floated on the surface of the moat of Thrieve, yet of a truth seeing nothing whatever, till a low voice pierced the abstraction of his reverie.
"Sir Sholto!" said Mistress Maud Lindesay, "I bid you a long good-by, Sir Sholto MacKim! Say farewell to him, Margaret, as you hear me do!" "Good-by, kind Sir Sholto!" piped the childish voice of the Maid of Galloway, as she made a little courtesy to Sholto MacKim in imitation of her companion.

"I know not where you are going, but Maudie bids me, so I will!" "And wherefore say you good-by to me ?" cried Sholto, finding his words at once in the wholesome atmosphere of raillery which everywhere accompanied that quipsome damosel, Mistress Maud Lindesay.
"Why, because we are humble folk, and must get our ways upstairs out of the way of dignities.

Permit me to kiss your glove, fair lord!" and here she tripped down the steps and pretended to take his hand.
"Hold off!" he cried, snatching it away angrily, for her tone vexed and thwarted him.
The girl affected a great terror, which merged immediately into a meek affectation of resignation.
"No--you are right--we are not worthy even to kiss your knightly hand," she said, "but we will respectfully greet you." Here she swept him a full reverence, and ran up the steps again before he could take hold of her.

Then, standing on the topmost step, and holding her friend's hand in hers, she spoke to the Maid of Galloway in a tone hushed and regretful, as one speaks of the dead.
"No, Margaret," she said, "he will no more play with us.