“And what may be your business with Miss Drummond?” says she.
I told her I had met her on Saturday last, had been so fortunate as to render her a trifling service, and was come now on the young lady’s invitation.
“O, so you’re Saxpence!” she cried, with a very sneering manner. “A braw gift, a bonny gentleman. And hae ye ony ither name and designation, or were ye bapteesed Saxpence?” she asked.
I told my name.
“Preserve me!” she cried. “Has Ebenezer gotten a son?”
“No, ma’am,” said I. “I am a son of Alexander’s. It’s I that am the Laird of Shaws.”
“Ye’ll find your work cut out for ye to establish that,” quoth she.
“I perceive you know my uncle,” said I; “and I daresay you may be the better pleased to hear that business is arranged.”
“And what brings ye here after Miss Drummond?” she pursued.
“I’m come after my saxpence, mem,” said I. “It’s to be thought, being my uncle’s nephew, I would be found a careful lad.”