“There was a set of pipes there,” I went on, “so you may judge if the time passed.”
“You should be no enemy, at all events,” said she. “That was his brother there a moment since, with the red soldiers round him. It is him that I call father.”
“Is it so?” cried I. “Are you a daughter of James More’s?”
“All the daughter that he has,” says she: “the daughter of a prisoner; that I should forget it so, even for one hour, to talk with strangers!”
Here one of the gillies addressed her in what he had of English, to know what “she” (meaning by that himself) was to do about “ta sneeshin.” I took some note of him for a short, bandy-legged, red-haired, big-headed man, that I was to know more of, to my cost.
“There can be none the day, Neil,” she replied. “How will you get ‘sneeshin’ wanting siller? It will teach you another time to be more careful; and I think James More will not be very well pleased with Neil of the Tom.”
“Miss Drummond,” I said, “I told you I was in my lucky day. Here I am, and a bank-porter at my tail. And remember I have had the hospitality of your own country of Balquhidder.”
“It was not one of my people gave it,” said she.
“Ah, well,” said I, “but I am owing your uncle at least for some springs upon the pipes. Besides which, I have offered myself to be your friend, and you have been so forgetful that you did not refuse me in the proper time.”
“If it had been a great sum, it might have done you honour,” said she; “but I will tell you what this is. James More lies shackled in prison; but this time past, they will be bringing him down here daily to the Advocate’s....”