“Ha, friend!” replied Gibbon, looking hard and seriously at him, “I cannot say that I recollect having ever seen you before; how then have I happened so to have obliged you?”
“Well!” said the other, “if you cannot remember that you ever saw me before, the greater was your kindness to me—unsight unseen, as we say. It is not every man that keeps such an easy reckoning as you do of the benefits for which his friends are indebted to him.”
“But what benefit have you had from me?” demanded Gibbon.
“I’ll tell you that,” said the West Highlander. “I’ll tell you that in a moment. You see, I have no less than three strapping lasses of daughters. I have married all the three, and to each one of them I gave a tocher which you provided.”
“Tut!” cried Gibbon laughing, “the man is demented. When did I ever give a tocher to daughter of yours? By St. Mungo, I have a strapping lass of a daughter of my own to portion. I have little ado therefore to portion those of other people.”
“What I say is nevertheless true,” replied the other. “And so sensible am I of the obligations I owe to you, that by way of a small return, and to show my gratitude, I must ask of you, as a favour, to accept of this horse of mine as a present for your daughter; and if you will go to the inn with me, I shall be happy to give you a pint of French Claret, if such be to be had in the town, to drink good luck to the young lady and her new palfrey.”
“As I am a Cumin you are an honest fellow!” cried Gibbon More, shaking him again heartily by the hand. “But I prythee explain—I cannot accept either your present or your wine till you tell me who you are, and until you expound your riddle to me.”
“I am not sure how far I am safe to do that,” said the other archly, “especially here, on the High Street of Inverness; and you standing there with so many pretty men at your back.”
“If I have done you kindnesses heretofore,” said Gibbon, “what fear can you have of me now, stand where I will, or let me be backed as I may?”
“Why, then, you see,” said the other, with a certain degree of comical hesitation, “I must confess that I did, on one occasion, presume somewhat too far on your liberality, and in your anger you gave me such a fright, that I am not sure that I have just altogether got the better of it yet.”