plain of. As for
the sheets, wait till you try them. The wild myrtles of Drumgau, beyant
the demesne 'isliout, is foulded in them; an' if the smell of them won't
make you think yourself in Paradise, 'tisn't my fault."

The stranger, on looking at her somewhat more closely, saw that she
was an exceedingly neat, tight, clean-looking young woman, fair and
youthful.

"Have you been long in the capacity of waiter, here." he asked.

"No, sir," she replied; "about six months."

"Do you never keep male waiters in this establishment," he inquired.

"Oh, yes, sir; Paudeen Gair and I generally act week about. This is my
week, sir, an' he's at the plough."

"And where have you been at service before you came here, my good girl?"

"In Sir Thomas Gourlay's, sir."

The stranger could not prevent himself from starting.

"In Sir Thomas Gourlay's!" he exclaimed. "And pray in what capacity were
you there?"

"I was own maid to Miss Gourlay, sir."

"To Miss Gourlay! and how did you come to leave your situation with
her?"

"When I find you have a right to ask, sir," she replied, "I will tell
you; but not till then."

"I stand reproved, my good girl," he said; "I have indeed no right to
enter into such inquiries; but I trust I have for those that are more to
the purpose. What have you for dinner?"

"Fish, flesh, and fowl, sir," she replied, with a peculiar smile, "and a
fine fat buck from the deer-park."

"Well, now," said he, "that really promises well--indeed it is more than
I expected--you had no quarrel, I hope, at parting? I beg your pardon--a
fat buck, you say. Come, I will have a slice of that."

"Very well, sir," she replied; "what else would you wish?"

"To know, my dear, whether Sir Thomas is as severe upon her
as--ahem!--anything at all you like--I'm not particular--only don't
forget a slice of the buck, out of the haunch, my dear; and, whisper, as
you and I are likely to become better acquainted--all in a civil way,
of course--here is a trifle of earnest, as a proof that, if you be
attentive, I shall not be ungenerous."

"I don't know," she replied, shaking her head, and hesitating; "you're a
sly-looking gentleman--and, if I thought that you had any--"

"Design, you would say," he replied; "no--none, at any rate, that is
improper; it is offered in a spirit of good-will and honor, and in such
you may fairly accept of it. So," he added, as he dropped the money into
her hand, "Sir Thomas insisted that you shou