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"I wadna hae muckle chance o' duin' onything, gien a' body was like you. But did ye never hear tell o' ane 'at said:'Ye wad du naething for nane o' mine, sae ye refeesed mysel'?" "Deed, an' I wull refeese yersel'," returned the old man. "Sic a chield for jaw an'cheek saw I never nane as the auld sang says! Whaur on this earth cam ye frae?"
"It's there we belang till, an' in wather like this naebody wad refeese bield till a beggar, no to say Mistress Jean till her ain fowk." With that she led the way to the door and opened it. "His v'ice was like the soon' o' mony watters," she said to herself softly, as the liquid thunder of the torrent came in the louder.
"Gien 't be a' ane till 's lordship," said Malcolm, without looking at Bykes, "it wad be better no to speir, for it gangs sair agen me to refeese him." "I should like to know," said the marquis. "Ye maun trust me, my lord, that I was efter no ill. I gie ye my word for that, my lord."
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