binet which opened to the garden, and
on the other, with a saloon, from which it was only separated by a thin
wainscot partition. Having wished the stranger better health and good
rest, Jenny descended as speedily as she could to her own mansion.

"Oh, Cuddie!" she exclaimed to her helpmate as she entered, "I doubt
we're ruined folk!"

"How can that be? What's the matter wi' ye?" returned the imperturbed
Cuddie, who was one of those persons who do not easily take alarm at
anything.

"Wha d' ye think yon gentleman is? Oh that ever ye suld hae asked him to
light here!" exclaimed Jenny.

"Why, wha the muckle deil d'ye say he is? There's nae law against
harbouring and intercommunicating now," said Cuddie; "sae, Whig or Tory,
what need we care wha he be?"

"Ay, but it's ane will ding Lord Evandale's marriage ajee yet, if it 's
no the better looked to," said Jenny; "it's Miss Edith's first joe, your
ain auld maister, Cuddie."

"The deil, woman!" exclaimed Cuddie, starting up, "Crow ye that I am
blind? I wad hae kend Mr. Harry Morton amang a hunder."

"Ay, but, Cuddie lad," replied Jenny, "though ye are no blind, ye are no
sae notice-taking as I am."

"Weel, what for needs ye cast that up to me just now; or what did ye see
about the man that was like our Maister Harry?"

"I will tell ye," said Jenny. "I jaloused his keeping his face frae us,
and speaking wi' a madelike voice, sae I e'en tried him wi' some tales o"
lang syne; and when I spake o' the brose, ye ken, he didna just
laugh,--he's ower grave for that nowadays, but he gae a gledge wi' his
ee that I kend he took up what I said. And a' his distress is about Miss
Edith's marriage; and I ne'er saw a man mair taen down wi' true love in
my days,--I might say man or woman, only I mind how ill Miss Edith was
when she first gat word that him and you (ye muckle graceless loon) were
coming against Tillietudlem wi' the rebels.--But what's the matter wi'
the man now?"

"What's the matter wi' me indeed!" said Cuddie, who was again hastily
putting on some of the garments he had stripped himself of; "am I no gaun
up this instant to see my maister?"

"Atweel, Cuddie, ye are gaun nae sic gate," said Jenny, coolly and
resolutely.

"The deil's in the wife!" said Cuddie. "D 'ye think I am to be John
Tamson's man, and maistered by women a' the days o' my life?"

"And whase man wad ye be? And wha wad ye hae to maister ye but me,
Cuddie, lad?" answered Jenny. "I'll gar ye com