AN UNWELCOME VISITOR.
Clifford.—Stop one moment, Serjeant. See how the rain has made its way through the chinks of the window, and deluged the floor.
Serjeant.—Mercy on me, so it has, sir! Well, I’m sure it’s no wonder. Such a blast as that which is rairding without, would drive it through a stone wall.
Grant.—Call the girl from the kitchen, like a good man.
Serjeant.—Here, lassie!—We’re like to be all drowned at this end of the house. Bring some cloths, will ye, and dish-clouts, and dry up this deluge here.
Lassie.—Keep us a’, siccana sight! But we’re no one hair better in the other end o’ the house.
Clifford.—Aye, that’s a good girl. Now lay some of these cloths along the window here. Aye, that will do. I think that ought to make us water-tight. Now, heap some more wood and peats on the fire before you go. Thank ye—that’s glorious. Now, let the storm howl as it likes.
Grant.—Do go on with your story, Serjeant. You were interrupted in a most interesting part of it.
Clifford.—“Blow, winds, and crack your cheeks!”—I beg your pardon, Sergeant; pray proceed.
Author.—Aye, pray do proceed. I am anxious to know what Sir Walter Stewart’s plans are, and how he succeeded in carrying them into effect. This part of the history is well known; but the minuter details are nowhere told in any book I am acquainted with, and I am curious to hear them.
Serjeant—(taking a long draught from his punch-jug.)—You shall be satisfied immediately, sir.