“Surely, sir! surely, Mr. Alick! I’se make it directly. I’se e’en now just gaun to mix the gude man’s night drink for himsel’,” smiled Jenny, hospitably.
“All right! mix mine at the same time,” said the young man, stretching out his feet to the fire, and indulging in a great yawn.
“And mix it in the big stone pitcher with the zinc cover, so it will keep hot while we sit and drink the bonny bride, Miss Anna Lyon’s health,” said old Andy as he came in and closed the door to keep out the driving rain.
“Oh, look here! You know I’ve no time for health-drinking; I’m due at the Hall these three hours; only this horrid weather, and these beastly roads have delayed me,” exclaimed Mr. Alick, rising impatiently and standing before the blazing fire.
He was a very good-looking young fellow, as he stood there. He had a tall, well-proportioned form, fine regular features, a fair, roseate complexion, light yellow hair, and bright blue eyes—smiling eyes that seemed to love all they looked upon.
Quickly and skilfully Jenny Birney made the toddy and poured it into large tumblers that she had previously heated by scalding them out with boiling water.
Once more Mr. Alick dropped himself into old Andy’s chair, while he received one of the glasses from his host.
“Eh, there sir; it’s as hot as love!” said the old man, as he passed the pitcher that his guest might replenish his glass at his pleasure.
“It is very good,” admitted the young man when he had finished his second tumbler. “Many thanks to you, Mistress Birney for the aid and comfort you have given me. I feel as if you had saved my life. I can now do the distance between this and the Hall without breaking down. And now I must be off. Good evening to you, Mistress Birney.”
And the traveller put on his cloak and cap, took up his umbrella, and escorted by Andy, left the cottage.