t."

"But perhaps you will allow me--"

"I will allow nae man, sir, to interrupt my leisure. If ye're wanting ony
thing, gang to the Town Clerk."

"Permit me one moment--my name is Dunshunner."

"Eh, what!" cried the Provost, bounding from his stool, "speak lower or
the lad will hear ye. Are ye the gentleman that's stannin' for the
burrows?"

"The same."

"Lord-sake! what for did ye no say that afore? Jims! I say, Jims! Look
after the shop! Come this way, sir, up the stair, and take care ye dinna
stumble on that toom cask o' saut."

I followed the Provost up a kind of corkscrew stair, until we emerged upon
a landing-place in his own proper domicile. We entered the dining room. It
was showily furnished; with an enormous urn of paper roses in the grate,
two stuffed parroquets upon the mantel-piece, a flamingo coloured carpet,
enormous worsted bell-pulls, and a couple of portraits by some peripatetic
follower of Vandyke, one of them representing the Provost in his civic
costume, and the other bearing some likeness to a fat female in a turban,
with a Cairngorm brooch about the size of a platter on her breast, and no
want of carmine on the space dedicated to the cheeks.

The Provost locked the door, and then clapped his ear to the key-hole. He
next approached the window, drew down the blinds so as effectually to
prevent any opposite scrutiny, and motioned me to a seat.

"And so ye're Mr Dunshunner?" said he. "Oh man, but I've been wearyin' to
see you!"

"Indeed! you flatter me very much."

"Nae flattery, Mr Dunshunner--name! I'm a plain honest man, that's a',
and naebody can say that Wattie Binkie, has blawn in their lug. And sae
ye're comin forrard for the burrows? It's a bauld thing, sir--a bauld
thing, and a great honour ye seek. No that I think ye winna do honour to
it, but it's a great trust for sae young a man; a heavy responsibility, as
a body may say, to hang upon a callant's shouthers."

"I hope, Mr Binkie, that my future conduct may show that I can at least
act up to my professions."

"Nae doubt, sir--I'm no misdoubtin' ye, and to say the truth ye profess
weel. I've read yer address, sir, and I like yer principles--they're the
stench auld Whig anes--keep a' we can to ourselves, and haud a gude grup.
But wha's bringing ye forrard? Wha signed yer requisition? No the
Kittleweem folk, I hope?--That wad be a sair thing against ye."

"Why, no--certainly not. The fact is, Mr Binkie, that I have not seen t