"An' what's that to me, laddie, whar the King, God bless him, is?" replied his mother. "I'm aye blithe to hear o' his weelfare, for auld lang syne; but what mair is there aboot it?"
"I dinna ken, mother," said the boy; "but I've been thinkin that if he kent you were here, or kent whar to fin ye, he wad maybe let you see that he hadna forgotten the barley meal bannocks o' the Torwood, that ye hae sae aften tell't us aboot."
"Tuts, ye foolish boy," replied his mother, plying away at her wheel. "Whatna notion is that? The King, honest man, has, I daresay, forgotten baith me and my bannocks many a day syne. He had owre muckle to do and owre muckle to think o' after that, to keep ony mind o' sae sma' and ordinary a matter as that. The recollection o' that nicht, Jamie, is, at onyrate, reward aneuch for me."
"Feth, I dinna ken, mither," said the pertinacious youngster; "but I think ye micht do waur than try. Ye micht do waur than tak a step doun to Cardross Castle—it's only about seven or aucht miles frae this, and get a sicht o' the King, an' tell him wha ye are. It micht do us a' guid."
To this very distinct and rational proposition, Margaret made no reply. It threw her into a musing mood, in which she continued for some time; making the wheel revolve, the while, with redoubled velocity. At length, studiously, as it appeared, avoiding all recurrence to the subject on which her son and herself had been speaking,
"Tak your bread and milk, Jamie, and gang to your bed. Ye ken ye hae to rise by three the morn's mornin."
The boy, without further urging his proposal, or saying anything more regarding it, did as he was desired—ate his bread and milk, and retired to bed, where he quickly fell fast asleep. His mother, on ascertaining that he had done so, got up from her wheel, went to a small wooden tub that stood in a corner of the cottage, and filled from it a small basin of barley-meal. With this meal she forthwith proceeded to bake a bannock of small size, which she subsequently toasted with great care. This done, she placed it in a cupboard, and soon after retired to bed. On the following morning, at an early hour, Margaret Grahame, dressed in her best, and carrying in her hand the identical barley meal bannock above spoken of, neatly wrapped up in a snow-white towel, was seen posting stoutly along the Dumbarton road, and evidently bent on a journey of some length. It was so: Margaret was making for Cardross Castle, where she arrived about three hours after leaving her own house. On reaching the outer gate of the castle, Margaret addressed herself to a sentinel who was walking backwards and forwards with a drawn sword in his hand.
"Is the King here, sir, just now?" she said.
"He is," replied the man, shortly.
"Could I see him, sir, do you think?"