As his horse plunged forward down the steep avenue, the starting of the saddle-girths compelled Walter to rein up near the gateway, and while adjusting the buckles, he became the unconscious listener to another leave-taking, which was accompanied by loud and obstreperous lamentations. It was Meinie Elshender bidding adieu to her kinsman and sweetheart Hab, who was reeling about in his bandaleers under the influence of various stoups of brandy.
"Now, Hab, you fause loon, dinna say no! You will forget me in the south, as you did in the west. Soldiers are a' alike."
"Roaring buckies are we, lassie!"
"Twa-faced varlets, that kittle up their lugs when the drums beat, and make love wherever they gang," replied Meinie, sobbing heavily. "You will be taking up with some English kimmer, I ken, and forgetting puir Meinie Elshender, that lo'es ye better than her ain life; and——"
"If I do, May——"
"Ewhow? and the rambles we've had together in many a red gloaming by the heronshaws and quarrel-holes. O, Hab, you're a fause ane, and will forget me—for the truth is no in ye!"
"Dear Meinie, if I do may——"
"Dinna swear, ye fule; for I may weary waiting on ye."
"May the de'il jump down my throat with a harrow at his tail! There now, will you believe me? Hoots, lass, we'll be back by the Halloween time to douk for apples in the muckle barn, sow hemp-seed in the Deil's-croft, roast nuts in the ingle, pu' kail castocks, and gang guisarding by Drumdryan and the Highriggs. Hech, how!
'Dunbarton's drums beat bonnie, O!'