"I wonder wha will be our first-foot," said Nelly; "I hope it will be a lucky ane."
The company began to argue whether there was anything in the luck of a first-foot or not, and the young genius sided with his mother; and, while they yet disputed upon the subject, a knocking was heard at the front-door.
"There's somebody," said Nelly; "if it's onybody that I think's no luck, I winna let them in."
"Nonsense!" said Richard.
"It's nae nonsense," replied Nelly; "it may be a flat-soled body, for onything I ken; and do ye think I wad risk the like o' that. Haud awa, see wha it is, George," added she, addressing the genius; "and dinna let them in unless you're sure that they dinna come empty-handed."
"Did ever ye hear the like o' the woman?" said her husband. "Sic havers! Rin awa, George, hinny; open the door."
The boy ran to the door, and inquired—"Who's there?"
"A stranger," was the reply.
"What do ye want?" inquired the genius, with a degree of caution seldom found in persons honoured with such an epithet.
"I have a letter to Master Rogers, from his brother," answered the stranger.