“Hout, tout, man,” said Francie, “the Earl will look at nae petitions— but I can gie’t to the almoner.”
“But it relates to some secret, that maybe my lord wad like best to see’t himsell.”
“I’m jeedging that’s the very reason that the almoner will be for seeing it the first and foremost.”
“But I hae come a’ this way on purpose to deliver it, Francis, and ye really maun help me at a pinch.”
“Neer speed then if I dinna,” answered the Aberdeenshire man: “let them be as cankered as they like, they can but turn me awa, and I was just thinking to ask my discharge, and gang down to end my days at Inverurie.”
With this doughty resolution of serving his friend at all ventures, since none was to be encountered which could much inconvenience himself, Francie Macraw left the apartment. It was long before he returned, and when he did, his manner indicated wonder and agitation.
“I am nae seer gin ye be Edie Ochiltree o’ Carrick’s company in the Forty-twa, or gin ye be the deil in his likeness!”
“And what makes ye speak in that gait?” demanded the astonished mendicant.
“Because my lord has been in sic a distress and surpreese as I neer saw a man in my life. But he’ll see you—I got that job cookit. He was like a man awa frae himsell for mony minutes, and I thought he wad hae swarv’t a’thegither,—and fan he cam to himsell, he asked fae brought the packet—and fat trow ye I said?”
“An auld soger,” says Edie—“that does likeliest at a gentle’s door; at a farmer’s it’s best to say ye’re an auld tinkler, if ye need ony quarters, for maybe the gudewife will hae something to souther.”