'What'll ye tak', my lord?—Letty, fess the brandy.'
'Oh! damn your brandy! Bring me a gill of good Glendronach.'
'Rin, Letty. His lordship's cauld.—I canna rise to offer ye the airm-cheir, my lord.'
'I can get one for myself, thank heaven!'
'Lang may yer lordship return sic thanks.'
'For I'm only new begun, ye think, Miss Naper. Well, I don't often trouble heaven with my affairs. By Jove! I ought to be heard when I do.'
'Nae doobt ye will, my lord, whan ye seek onything that's fit to be gien ye.'
'True. Heaven's gifts are seldom much worth the asking.'
'Haud yer tongue, my lord, and dinna bring doon a judgment upo' my hoose, for it wad be missed oot o' Rothieden.'
'You're right there, Miss Naper. And here comes the whisky to stop my mouth.'