GATTY'S back was hardly turned when a visitor arrived, and inquired, “Is Mr. Gatty at home?”
“What's your will wi' him?” was the Scottish reply.
“Will you give him this?”
“What est?”
“Are you fond of asking questions?” inquired the man.
“Ay! and fules canna answer them,” retorted Christie.
The little document which the man, in retiring, left with Christie Johnstone purported to come from one Victoria, who seemed, at first sight, disposed to show Charles Gatty civilities. “Victoria—to Charles Gatty, greeting! (salutem).” Christie was much struck with this instance of royal affability; she read no further, but began to think, “Victoree! that's the queen hersel. A letter fra the queen to a painter lad! Picters will rise i' the mairket—it will be an order to paint the bairns. I hae brought him luck; I am real pleased.” And on Gatty's return, canvas in hand, she whipped the document behind her, and said archly, “I hae something for ye, a tecket fra a leddy, ye'll no want siller fra this day.”
“Indeed!”
“Ay! indeed, fra a great leddy; it's vara gude o' me to gie ye it; heh! tak it.”
He did take it, looked stupefied, looked again, sunk into a chair, and glared at it.