“Gae saddle me the bonny black, Gae saddle sune and mak’ him ready For I will down the Gatehope-slack, And a’ to see my bonny leddy.” The young lady, when I turned to her, stood in a morning gown, and her hands muffled in the same, as if to hold me at a distance. Yet I could not but think there was kindness in the eye with which she saw me. “My best respects to you, Mistress Grant,” said I, bowing. “The like to yourself, Mr. David,” she replied with a deep courtesy. “And I beg to remind you of an old musty saw, that meat and mass never hindered man. The mass I cannot afford you, for we are all good Protestants. But the meat I press on your attention. And I would not wonder but I could find something for your private ear that would be worth the stopping for.” “Mistress Grant,” said I, “I believe I am already your debtor for some merry words—and I think they were kind too—on a piece of unsigned paper.” “Unsigned paper?” says she, and made a droll face, which was likewise wondrous beautiful, as of one trying to remember. “Or else I am the more deceived,” I went on. “But to be sure, we shall have the time to speak of these, since your father is so good as to make me for a while your inmate; and the _gomeral_ begs you at this time only for the favour of his liberty.” “You give yourself hard names,” said she. “Mr. Doig and I would be blythe to take harder at your clever pen,” says I. “Once more I have to admire the discretion of all men-folk,” she replied. “But if you will not eat, off with you at once; you will be back the sooner, for you go on a fool’s errand. Off with you, Mr. David,” she continued, opening the door. “He has lowpen on his bonny grey, He rade the richt gate and the ready I trow he would neither stint nor stay, For he was seeking his bonny leddy.” I did not wait to be twice bidden, and did justice to Miss Grant’s citation on the way to Dean. Old Lady Allardyce walked there alone in the garden, in her hat and mutch, and having a silver-mounted staff of some black wood to lean upon. As I alighted from my horse, and drew near to her with _congees_, I could see the blood come in her face, and her head fling into the air like what I had conceived of empresses. “What brings you to my poor door?” she cried, speaking high through her nose. “I cannot bar it. The males of my house are dead and buried; I have neither son nor husband to stand in the gate for me; any beggar can pluck me by the baird [18]—and a baird there is, and that’s the worst of it yet!” she added partly to herself. I was extremely put out at this reception, and the last remark, which seemed like a daft wife’s, left me near hand speechless. “I see I have fallen under your displeasure, ma’am,” said I. “Yet I will still be so bold as ask after Mistress Drummond.”