“Bauby!” exclaimed Lady Anne with dignity, as her giant handmaiden threw open the door—“Bauby, you have forgotten yourself. Is that a way to enter a room where I am?”
“Your pardon, my lady—I beg your pardon—I canna help it. Eh, Lady Anne! Eh, Miss Katie! ‘Little wat ye wha’s coming; prince and lord and a’s coming.’ There’s ane in the court—ane frae the North, wi’ the news of a’ the victories!”
Lady Anne’s face flushed a little. “Who is it?—what is it, Bauby?”
“It’s the Prince just, blessin’s on his bonnie face!—they say he’s the gallantest gentleman that ever was seen—making a’ the road frae the Hielands just ae great conquish. The man says there’s thousands o’ the clans after him—a grand army, beginning wi’ the regular sodgers in their uniform, and ending wi’ the braw tartans—or ending wi’ the clouds mair like, for what twa e’en could see the end of them marching, and them thousands aboon thousands; and white cockauds on ilka bonnet of them. Eh, my leddy! I could greet—I could dance—I could sing—
‘An somebody were come again,
Than somebody maun cross the main,
And ilka man shall hae his ain,
Carle an the King come!’”
“Hush, Bauby, hush,” said Lady Anne, drawing herself up with a consciousness of indecorum; but her pale cheek flushed, and her face grew animated. She could not pretend to indifference.
“Ye had best get a sword and a gun, and a white cockade yoursel. You’re big enough, Bauby,” said the anti-Jacobite Katie; “for your grand Chevalier will need a’ his friends yet. Maybe if you’re no feared, but keep up with a’ thae wild Hielandmen, he’ll make you a knight, Bauby.”