“I ran to the door to take the enraged veteran in my arms, and welcome him as my best friend and adviser, but they had bolted the inner door in his face, through which he had run his sword amaist to the hilt, an’ he was tugging an’ pu’ing at it to get it out again, swearing a’ the time like a true dragoon. I led him into my room, an’ steekit the door o’t, but there he stood wi’ his feet asperr, and his drawn sword at arm’s length ahint his back, in act to make a lounge at the door, till he had exhausted a’ his aiths, baith in Gaelic an’ English, at the fock o’ the house, and then he sheathed his sword, and there was nae mair about it.
“I speered what I could do to oblige him?”
“Hu, not creat moach at hall, man; only pe kiffing me your hand. Py Cot’s poy, put if you tit not stonish tem! Vas not I peen telling you tat him’s hearty curse pe te cood?”
“My certy,” quo’ I, “but ye did do that, or I wad never hae thought o’t; ye’re an auld-farrant honest chiel! I am sorry that I canna just now make ye sic a present as ye deserve; but ye maun come out an’ see me.”
“Present! Poo, poo, poo! Teol more, take te present tat pe coing petween friends, and she may have sharper works tan pe coing visits; put not te more, she pe haifing small favour to seek.”
“Od, man,” says I, “ye hae been the mean o’ preserving my life, an’ ye sanna ax a thing that I’ll refuse, e’en to my ain doughter. An’ by the by, serjeant, gin ye want a good wife, an’ a bonny ane, I’ll gie ye sic a tocher wi’ my Keatie, as never was gi’en wi’ a farmer’s lassie i’ the Forest.”
“Hu! Cot pe plessing you! She haif cot wife, and fery hexcellent boddach, with two childs after him.”
“What is it then, serjeant? Gin the thing be in my power, ye hae naething ado but to say the word.”
“Do you know tat her nainsell pe coosin to yourself?”