Leaving Willie to prosecute his journey, we request the reader to return with us to Whinnyhill, where we shall find a circumstance occurring which is intimately connected with the denouement of our tale.
Shortly after the former's departure from the place just named, another stout carle of a mendicant appeared at the laird's gate. It was the dinner hour, and, as was then customary in the country, and is so still, we believe, in some places, the doors were all carefully secured, and no egress or ingress permitted, till the conclusion of the meal. To this exclusion, however, the person now seeking admission to the laird's did not seem willing to submit; for he began to thunder at the gate with an impetuosity and vehemence that scarcely beseemed his very humble calling; and, as if this was not enough, he shouted out at the top of his voice to the inmates to open the gate to him.
Yet, however unbecoming his conduct, or however insolent it may be thought, it had the desired effect of procuring him the service he wanted.
The laird himself answered the call, though certainly more for the purpose of letting out his wrath on the noisy intruder, than to let him in.
"My feth, friend," he said, his anger greatly increased when, on opening the gate, he found that it was a common vagrant who sought admittance, "but ye're no blate to rap at folk's doors this gaet. An' ye had been the best man in the land, ye couldna hae been baulder. My certy, it's come to a pretty pass, when beggars bang at yer door like lords!"
"The devil's in the old churl!" replied the undaunted beggar. "Dost not see that I'm knocked up with fatigue, man, and didst think I was to stand here starving of hunger, if a few knocks at your gate was to bring me a little nearer to some refreshment? Come, Whinnyhill," continued the free and easy beggar, at the same time slapping the former familiarly on the shoulder, "I know ye, man, I know ye to be a good honest fellow, and one who grudges nobody either bite or sup. So, let's have something to eat directly." And he bestowed another hearty smack on the laird's shoulder.
"By my feth, sirrah?" replied the latter, amazed and irritated at the singular ease and impudence of the mendicant, and above all at his presumptuous familiarity, "but that's a new way to seek awmous. 'Od, freen, an' ye lack onything, it 'ill no be for want o' askin't."
"Why, Whinnyhill, how should I get, if I didn't ask?" said the mendicant. "Take my word for't, Whinny, when you want a thing there's nothing like asking. Your modest fool always comes off with an empty hand, and maybe an empty stomach too. Why, man, dost think people will run after one offering one what one wants without solicitation? No, no; and, besides, a thing that's worth having is always worth asking."
"Ye're maybe no far wrang there, freend," said the laird; "but ye'll allow me to say that ye're ane o' the bauldest, no to say ane o' the impudentest beggars, I hae seen for a while. Nevertheless, ye may step into the kitchen there, and get a mouthfu' o' what's gaun; but mind ye, dinna kick up such a stramash at my yett again, when ye come seekin an awmous, or I'll maybe let ye cool your heels awhile or ye win in, and thankfu' if I dinna set the dog on ye."
"The beggar man he thumped at the yett
Till bolt and bar did flee, O,
And aye he swore, as he thumped again,
That denied he wadna be, O.
Fal de ral, al al al, reedle al de ral,
Fal de ral, al al al, de reedle ee di.