"
Accordingly, he thus opened the conversation with young Morton: "A braw
night this for the rye, your honour; the west park will be breering
bravely this e'en."
"I do not doubt it, Cuddie; but what can have brought your mother--this
is your mother, is it not?" (Cuddie nodded.) "What can have brought your
mother and you down the water so late?"
"Troth, stir, just what gars the auld wives trot--neshessity, stir--I'm
seeking for service, stir."
"For service, Cuddie, and at this time of the year? how comes that?"
Mause could forbear no longer. Proud alike of her cause and her
sufferings, she commenced with an affected humility of tone, "It has
pleased Heaven, an it like your honour, to distinguish us by a
visitation"--"Deil's in the wife and nae gude!" whispered Cuddie to his
mother, "an ye come out wi' your whiggery, they'll no daur open a door to
us through the haill country!" Then aloud and addressing Morton, "My
mother's auld, stir, and she has rather forgotten hersell in speaking to
my leddy, that canna weel bide to be contradickit, (as I ken nae-body
likes it if they could help themsells,) especially by her ain folk,--and
Mr Harrison the steward, and Gudyill the butler, they're no very fond o'
us, and it's ill sitting at Rome and striving wi' the Pope; sae I thought
it best to flit before ill came to waur--and here's a wee bit line to
your honour frae a friend will maybe say some mair about it."
Morton took the billet, and crimsoning up to the ears, between joy and
surprise, read these words: "If you can serve these poor helpless people,
you will oblige E.
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