“Oh, yes!” I cried. And Flora bade Helen bring him in.
In marched Sam—the old familiar Sam, though he had put on a flowered waistcoat and a glossy green tie which made him look rather like a Merry Andrew.
“Your servant, ladies! Your servant, Maister Angus! I trust all’s weel wi’ ye the morn?”
And Sam sighed, as if he felt relieved after that speech.
“Sam, is all well at home? Who sent you?”
“All’s weel, Miss Cary, the Lord be thanked. And Mrs Kezia sent me.”
“Is my Aunt Kezia gone to her new house? Does she want me to come back?”
“Thank goodness, na!” said Sam, which at first I thought rather a poor compliment; but I saw the next minute that it was the answer to my first question. “Mrs Kezia’s gone nowhere. Nor they dinna want ye back at Brocklebank nae mair. I’m come to ha’e a care of ye till London town. The Lord grant I win hame safe mysel’ at after!”
“Is the country so disturbed, Sam?” said Flora.
“The country’s nae disturbed, Miss Flora. I was meanin’ temptations and sic-like. Leastwise, ay—the country is a bit up and down, as ye may say; but no sae mickle. We’ll win safe eneuch to London, me and Miss Cary, if the Lord pleases. It’s the comin’ haim I’m feared for.”