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Do you see, sir? concluded Robert significantly. 'No, I don't, answered the doctor. 'They say he's a son o' the auld Markis's, that's it. His mither's a randy wife 'at gangs aboot the country a gipsy they say. There's nae doobt aboot her. An' by a' accoonts the father's likly eneuch. 'And how on earth did you come to have such a questionable companion?

And though I couldn't understand a word she said I managed to get out of it just this: That some day they're going to spread a red carpet for Mizzi and she's going to walk down it in glory. If you'd seen her face when she said it, S.H., you wouldn't laugh." "I wouldn't laugh anyway," said Hahn, seriously. And that's the true story of Mizzi Markis's beginning. Few people know it.

"Weel, ye canna deny," persisted Phemy, in mood to brave the evil one himself, "'at ye was ower at Kirkbyres on ane o' the markis's mears, an' heild a lang confab wi' the laird's mither!" "I gaed upo' my maister's eeran'," answered Malcolm. "Ow, ay! I daursay! But wha kens wi' sic a mither!" She burst out crying, and ran into the street. Malcolm understood it now.

"What mean ye, man? Speyk oot," said Malcolm. "They say it's a' anent the abduckin' o' the markis's boat, 'at you an' him gaed aff wi' thegither." "That'll hardly haud, seeing the marchioness hersel' cam' hame in her the last nicht." "Ay, but ye see the decree's gane oot, an' what the factor says is like the laws o' the Medes an' the Prussians, 'at they say's no to be altert; I kenna mysel'."

"The suner the better, lass," replied her husband. "An' we cudna ha'e a better win'. Jist rin ye hame, an' get some vicktooals thegither, an' come efter hiz to Portlossie." "But hoo 'ill ye get the boat to the watter ohn mair han's? I'll need to come mysel' an' fess Jean." "Na, na; let Jean sit. There's plenty i' the Seaton to help. We're gauin' to tak' the markis's cutter.