“No, never,” answered Peter. “What gars ye speir sic a thing?”
“Cause I want ye to believe me noo, an’ it winna be easy.”
“I’ll believe onything ye tell me—’at can be believed.”
“Weel, I ha’e come to the knowledge ’at my name’s no MacPhail: it’s Colonsay. Man, I’m the Markis o’ Lossie.”
Without a moment’s hesitation, without a single stare of unbelief or even astonishment, Blue Peter pulled off his bonnet, and stood bareheaded before the companion of his toils.
“Peter!” cried Malcolm, “dinna brak my hert: put on yer bonnet.”
“The Lord o’ lords be thankit, my lord!” said Blue Peter: “the puir man has a freen’ this day.”
Then replacing his bonnet he said—
“An’ what’ll be yer lordship’s wull?”
“First and foremost, Peter, that my best freen’, efter my auld daddy and the schulemaister, ’s no to turn again’ me ’cause I hed a markis an’ neither piper nor fisher to my father.”