“Oh, it’s na sa bad—na sa bad,” protested the widow. “Wi’ a guide roof ower one’s haid an’ a warm fire to sit near, th’ winter soon runs awa’. Ha’ ye come fa’?”
“Not very far,” was the answer. “To me it would be a great favor, my good woman, if you could give me a drink of something warm to start my blood.”
“Tea?” suggested Widow Myles.
The visitor shook his head.
“I would prefer something warmer than that,” he said. “Have you any whisky in the house?”
“I canna tell. I much doot i’ I ha’!”
“Because if you have,” said the stranger, jingling some money in his hand, “I’ll pay well for a stiff drink.”
“I may ha’ a wee drap,” confessed the landlady. “I sometime’ ha’ it far me’cine.”
“It is for medicine I need it now, so if you will hasten, madam, you need but to name your price.”
The widow disappeared. After about ten minutes she reappeared with hot water, whisky and sugar, at sight of which the face of the stranger showed his satisfaction. Deftly and with loss of little time the stranger mixed his drink, tasted it, smacked his lips over it and then asked the widow to name her price.