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Mailsetter, interfering; "I hae had eneugh o' that wark Ken ye that Mr. Mailsetter got an unco rebuke frae the secretary at Edinburgh, for a complaint that was made about the letter of Aily Bisset's that ye opened, Mrs. Shortcake?"
But never mind we will state the true one to the Barons, and that is all that is necessary." "I incline to send off an express to-night," said the Baronet. "I can recommend your honour to a sure hand," said Ochiltree; "little Davie Mailsetter, and the butcher's reisting powny." "We will talk over the matter as we go to Monkbarns," said Sir Arthur.
"Hout tout, leddies," cried Mrs. Mailsetter, "ye're clean wrang It's a line out o' ane o' his sailors' sangs that I have heard him sing, about being true like the needle to the pole." "Weel, weel, I wish it may be sae," said the charitable Dame Heukbane, "but it disna look weel for a lassie like her to keep up a correspondence wi' ane o' the king's officers." "I'm no denying that," said Mrs.
"Wast a ship-letter?" asked the Fornerina. "In troth wast." "It wad be frae the lieutenant then," replied the mistress of the rolls, somewhat disappointed "I never thought he wad hae lookit ower his shouther after her." "Od, here's another," quoth Mrs. Mailsetter. "A ship-letter post-mark, Sunderland." All rushed to seize it. "Na, na, leddies," said Mrs.
Mailsetter; "haud awa bide aff, I tell you; this is nane o' your fourpenny cuts that we might make up the value to the post-office amang ourselves if ony mischance befell it; the postage is five-and-twenty shillings and here's an order frae the Secretary to forward it to the young gentleman by express, if he's no at hame. Na, na, sirs, bide aff; this maunna be roughly guided."
Mailsetter; "but it's a great advantage to the revenue of the post-office thae love-letters. See, here's five or six letters to Sir Arthur Wardour maist o' them sealed wi' wafers, and no wi' wax. There will be a downcome, there, believe me." "Ay; they will be business letters, and no frae ony o' his grand friends, that seals wi' their coats of arms, as they ca' them," said Mrs.
Heukbane; "he'll make as muckle about buying a forequarter o' lamb in August as about a back sey o' beef. Mailsetter, my dear. Ah, lasses! an ye had kend his brother as I did mony a time he wad slip in to see me wi' a brace o' wild deukes in his pouch, when my first gudeman was awa at the Falkirk tryst weel, weel we'se no speak o' that e'enow." "I winna say ony ill o'this Monkbarns," said Mrs.
But never mind we will state the true one to the Barons, and that is all that is necessary." "I incline to send off an express to-night," said the Baronet. "I can recommend your honour to a sure hand," said Ochiltree; "little Davie Mailsetter, and the butcher's reisting powny." "We will talk over the matter as we go to Monkbarns," said Sir Arthur.
"I'm sorry for that," answered the postmistress, gravely; "it's like we maun wait then till the gudeman comes hame, after a' for I wadna like to be responsible in trusting the letter to sic a callant as Jock our Davie belangs in a manner to the office." "Aweel, aweel, Mrs. Mailsetter, I see what ye wad be at but an ye like to risk the bairn, I'll risk the beast." Orders were accordingly given.
The bearer, Davie Mailsetter, as little resembling a bold dragoon as could well be imagined, was carried onwards towards Monkbarns by the pony, so long as the animal had in his recollection the crack of his usual instrument of chastisement, and the shout of the butcher's boy.
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