‘I hae just ta’en a bit canter oure to see you, and to speak anent yon thing.’
‘Hae ye got the papers made out?’
‘Surely—it can never be your serious intent—I would fain hope—nay, really, Mr. Walkinshaw, ye maunna think o’t.’
‘Hoot, toot, toot; I thought ye had mair sense, Mr. Keelevin. But I’m sorry we canna gae back wi’ you, for we’re just sae far in the road to see Charlie and his lady landless.’
‘’Deed are we,’ added Mrs. Walkinshaw; ‘and ye’ll no guess what the gudeman has in his pouch to gie them for hansel to their matrimony: the whole tot of a hundred pound, Mr. Keelevin—what think you o’ that?’
The lawyer looked first at the Leddy, and then at the Laird, and said, ‘Mr. Walkinshaw, I hae done you wrong in my thought.’
‘Say nae mair about it, but hae the papers ready by Wednesday, as I directed,’ replied Claud.
‘I hope and trust, Mr. Keelevin,’ said Mrs. Walkinshaw, ‘that he’s no about his will and testament: I redde ye, an he be, see that I’m no neglekit; and dinna let him do an injustice to the lave for the behoof of Charlie, wha is, as I say, his darling chevalier.’
Mr. Keelevin was as much perplexed as ever any member of the profession was in his life; but he answered cheerfully,
‘Ye need na be fear’t, Mrs. Walkinshaw, I’ll no wrang either you or any one of the family;’ and he added, looking towards her husband, ‘if I can help it.’