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"What note, honest man?" said Mr. Weft. "Got tamn," quo' Donald; "the note the auld scounrel, your grandfather, stole frae me." "My grandfaither!" answered the ither wi' amazement. "I am thinking, honest man, ye hae had a glass ower muckle. My grandfaither has been dead for saxteen years, and I ne'er heard tell till now that he was a fief."
And he stretchit out his hand to tak hand o't, when my frien' wi' the tail, lifting up his stick, lent him sic a whack ower the fingers as made him pu' back in the twinkling of an ee. "Got tamn ye, ye auld scounrel," said the man; "do ye mean to tak my money frae me?"
He is a tamn fillain and scounrel, and so she says, with her respecs to you, Mistress Kertope." His sightless eyes flashed with indignation; and perceiving it was time to change the subject, the housekeeper turned to Malcolm. "Could you bring me a nice mackerel or whiting for my lord's breakfast tomorrow morning, Malcolm?" she said. "Certaintly, mem.
"And I am Tonald Campbell, piper's sister's son to his grace the great, grand Tuke of Argyle," thundered out the Heelandman, wi' a voice that was fearsome to hear. "And what about that?" quo' Mr. Weft, rather snappishly, as I thocht. "If ye were the great, grand Duke of Argyle himself, as ye ca' him, I'll no permit you to kick up a dust in my shop." "Ye scounrel," said Donald, seizing Mr.
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