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"The Master of Lovat'll be a braw Whig," says I, "and a grand Presbyterian." "I ken naething by him," said he. "I hae nae trokings wi' Lovats." "No, it'll be Prestongrange that you'll be dealing with," said I. "Ah, but I'll no' tell ye that," said Andie. "Little need when I ken," was my retort. "There's just the ae thing ye can be fairly sure of, Shaws," says Andie.
It had been written that morning before leaving the town, and bore traces of hasty composition. It ran as follows: "SIR, This is to let ye know, dear Oliver, that I'm sure M. has got a bee in his bonnet. I'm thinking that some one we know has tell't him she will hae no trokings with him in the way he wants.
"The Master of Lovat'll be a braw Whig," says I, "and a grand Presbyterian." "I ken naething by him," said he. "I hae nae trokings wi' Lovats." "No, it'll be Prestongrange that you'll be dealing with," said I. "Ah, but I'll no tell ye that," said Andie. "Little need when I ken," was my retort. "There's just the ae thing ye can be fairly sure of, Shaws," says Andie.
"This is nae kind of time of night for decent folk; and I hae nae trokings* wi' night-hawks. What brings ye here? I have a blunderbush." * Dealings. "Is that yoursel', Mr. Balfour?" returned Alan, stepping back and looking up into the darkness. "Have a care of that blunderbuss; they're nasty things to burst." "What brings ye here? and whae are ye?" says my uncle, angrily.
"The Master of Lovat'll be a braw Whig," says I, "and a grand Presbyterian." "I ken naething by him," said he. "I hae nae trokings wi' Lovats." "No, it'll be Prestongrange that you'll be dealing with," said I. "Ah, but I'll no tell ye that," said Andie. "Little need when I ken," was my retort. "There's just the ae thing ye can be fairly sure of, Shaws," says Andie.
"This is nae kind of time of night for decent folk; and I hae nae trokings wi' night-hawks. What brings ye here? I have a blunderbush." "Is that yoursel', Mr. Balfour?" returned Alan, stepping back and looking up into the darkness. "Have a care of that blunderbuss; they're nasty things to burst." "What brings ye here? and whae are ye?" says my uncle angrily.
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