"Why, Lintstock, my old Cyclop," said Leslie, "thou art looking grave as a German lanzknecht. Tuts! cheer up; thy master will soon be out of David's Tower; and then, let Sir Adam of Redhall look to himself."
"Ay, Balquhan, but let him look well to himself before that cometh to pass!"
"How, old Tartar! wouldst thou give the king's advocate a sliver with thine axe?"
"I will hew him to the brisket for having dared to look at my master's lemane! By St. John! if any man dare look aboon his rosettes, when passing my master's next lady-love at kirk or market——"
"Oho!" said Sir John Forrester, hastily; "thou seemest better acquainted with this matter than most of us. But be wary, carle, thy head may run under a noose. Some more pie?"
"If it please ye, sir."
"If it pleases thee, rather. Eat well, my old cormorant; for it hath been a fast with thee since thy master's arrest. Now, Leslie, to return to what we were talking of. I know of no other means of procuring admittance to Vipont's prison but in disguise. If Father St. Bernard would lend me his cassock——"
"Thou art too tall by eight inches. I know my Lady Cranstoun-Riddel's little tire-woman," said Leslie, winking, and clanking his gold spurs.
"I' faith! a nice little dame, with black eyes and pretty teeth."
"But a saucy darnstocking, spoiled at court by the pages and archers."