"Ye mind me of yer puir father," said the old man as he sat down to breakfast.
That was a note of sad recollection which brought tears to Yetta's eyes; but a smile was soon gleaming through them when Tam, getting sight of Meg, who was eyeing him as it were askance, said drily, "Meg looks as if she hardly kenned what ta mek of her handiwark; for the beginning o't was a' her doing."
Just then the noise of wheels was heard on the road, and as the messenger who brought the clothes left word that one of the Queen's carriages would pick him up on the morrow, Tam thought surely this was the one. But it was not. Indeed, he ran to the door at least twenty times ere, towards eleven o'clock, his vehicle arrived. It was a quaint affair, half carriage, half wash-basket, drawn by two asses, creatures as beautiful of their kind as could be found. It was driven by her whom he knew, and by her side were several bright little faces, while the Highland gentleman, riding behind on one pony, as sturdy and Hielan' as himself, led another by the bridle.
Donal and Yetta came out and with bowed heads thanked the august though simple-hearted lady for the great kindness she had shown to their boy. She replied with a kindly smile:
"There appears to be the making of a good man in him, and, with God's help, we will do our best to make him one."
Little more was said, and, mounting the led pony, Tam rode off by the side of the faithful retainer, who never got further away from the carriage than the dust raised by its wheels.
Thus commenced Tam's career in life. Though he served the noblest lady in the land, he did not find his way one altogether of buttered parsnips and cream. The one thing abhorrent to his royal mistress was idleness and indifference. The motto of her establishment—of all her establishments—was "The diligent eye." In this principle she found not only the best interests of her own house, but the best interests also of those who served her.
Tam could not be called idle, nor could he be called exactly indifferent; but during the years of his tending of cattle and sheep on the brae-side he had got into the habit of liking to loll about, to saunter and dream, and then to make up, or try to make up, the leeway of work or duty by a spurt of energy. Another fault he had was to leave things about—for others to "side" or put in order. This arose, no doubt, from the narrow dimensions of his home, where there was hardly room for everything to have its particular place. It was, however, neither a very grievous nor a deeply rooted fault; and a little sharp drilling, not unfrequently at the hands of the Highland gentleman—a sort of major of the household, who possessed "the diligent eye" par excellence—soon corrected Tam's delinquency in this regard.
But the other fault was more deeply rooted and cost the young donkey-boy many a bad quarter of an hour. Indeed, on one occasion it nearly cost him his place. He had been given a task to do, and in place of doing it with all diligence he had been found with his feet growing to the ground, as it were. The consequence was an interview with the Highland gentleman, who told him, "Tam, ye have either ta pe punisht or to leave her Majesty's service: which shall it pe?"