Flockhart, and the deevil
tak the shortest nails.'
'And will the colonel venture on the bagganets himsell?'
'Ye may swear it, Mrs. Flockhart; the very first man will he be, by
Saint Phedar.'
'Merciful goodness! and if he's killed amang the red-coats!' exclaimed
the soft-hearted widow.
'Troth, if it should sae befall, Mrs. Flockhart, I ken ane that will
no be living to weep for him. But we maun a' live the day, and have
our dinner; and there's Vich Ian Vohr has packed his DORLACH, and Mr.
Waverley's wearied wi' majoring yonder afore the muckle pier-glass; and
that grey auld stoor carle, the Baron o' Bradwardine, that shot young
Ronald of Ballenkeiroch, he's coming down the close wi' that droghling
coghling bailie body they ca' Macwhupple, just like the Laird o'
Kittlegab's French cook, wi' his turn-spit doggie trindling ahint him,
and I am as hungry as a gled, my bonny dow; sae bid Kate set on the
broo', and do ye put on your pinners, for ye ken Vich Ian Vohr winna
sit down till ye be at the head o' the table;--and dinna forget the pint
bottle o' brandy, my woman.'
This hint produced dinner. Mrs. Flockhart, smiling in her weeds like the
sun through a mist; took the head of the table, thinking within herself,
perhaps, that she cared not how long the rebellion lasted, that brought
her into company so much above her usual associates.
Pages:
439
440
441
442
443
444
445
446
447
448
449
450
451
452
453
454
455
456
457
458
459
460
461
462
463