oft half-full
of hay, which an out-of-door domestic had occupied until dismissed by his
uncle in one of those fits of parsimony which became more rigid from day
to day. In this untenanted loft Morton left his companion, with a caution
so to shade his light that no reflection might be seen from the window,
and a promise that he would presently return with such refreshments as he
might be able to procure at that late hour. This last, indeed, was a
subject on which he felt by no means confident, for the power of
obtaining even the most ordinary provisions depended entirely upon the
humour in which he might happen to find his uncle's sole confidant, the
old housekeeper. If she chanced to be a-bed, which was very likely, or
out of humour, which was not less so, Morton well knew the case to be at
least problematical.

Cursing in his heart the sordid parsimony which pervaded every part of
his uncle's establishment, he gave the usual gentle knock at the bolted
door, by which he was accustomed to seek admittance, when accident had
detained him abroad beyond the early and established hours of rest at the
house of Milnwood. It was a sort of hesitating tap, which carried an
acknowledgment of transgression in its very sound, and seemed rather to
solicit than command attention. After it had been repeated again and
again, the housekeeper, grumbling betwixt her teeth as she rose from the
chimney corner in the hall, and wrapping her checked handkerchief round
her head to secure her from the cold air, paced across the stone-passage,
and repeated a careful "Wha's there at this time o' night?" more than
once before she undid the bolts and bars, and cautiously opened the door.

"This is a fine time o' night, Mr Henry," said the old dame, with the
tyrannic insolence of a spoilt and favourite domestic;--"a braw time o'
night and a bonny, to disturb a peaceful house in, and to keep quiet folk
out o' their beds waiting for you. Your uncle's been in his maist three
hours syne, and Robin's ill o' the rheumatize, and he's to his bed too,
and sae I had to sit up for ye mysell, for as sair a hoast as I hae."

Here she coughed once or twice, in further evidence of the egregious
inconvenience which she had sustained.

"Much obliged to you, Alison, and many kind thanks."

"Hegh, sirs, sae fair-fashioned as we are! Mony folk ca' me Mistress
Wilson, and Milnwood himsell is the only ane about this town thinks o'
ca'ing me Alison, and indeed he as afte