“It is the house of the Lord Advocate Grant of Prestongrange,” said she. “There they bring my father one time and another, for what purpose I have no thought in my mind; but it seems there is some hope dawned for him. All this same time they will not let me be seeing him, nor yet him write; and we wait upon the King’s street to catch him; and now we give him his snuff as he goes by, and now something else. And here is this son of trouble, Neil, son of Duncan, has lost my four-penny piece that was to buy that snuff, and James More must go wanting, and will think his daughter has forgotten him.” I took sixpence from my pocket, gave it to Neil, and bade him go about his errand. Then to her, “That sixpence came with me by Balwhidder,” said I. “Ah!” she said, “you are a friend to the Gregara!” “I would not like to deceive you, either,” said I. “I know very little of the Gregara and less of James More and his doings, but since the while I have been standing in this close, I seem to know something of yourself; and if you will just say ‘a friend to Miss Catriona’ I will see you are the less cheated.” “The one cannot be without the other,” said she. “I will even try,” said I. “And what will you be thinking of myself!” she cried, “to be holding my hand to the first stranger!” “I am thinking nothing but that you are a good daughter,” said I. “I must not be without repaying it,” she said; “where is it you stop!” “To tell the truth, I am stopping nowhere yet,” said I, “being not full three hours in the city; but if you will give me your direction, I will be so bold as come seeking my sixpence for myself.” “Will I can trust you for that?” she asked. “You need have little fear,” said I. “James More could not bear it else,” said she. “I stop beyond the village of Dean, on the north side of the water, with Mrs. Drummond-Ogilvy of Allardyce, who is my near friend and will be glad to thank you.” “You are to see me, then, so soon as what I have to do permits,” said I; and, the remembrance of Alan rolling in again upon my mind, I made haste to say farewell. I could not but think, even as I did so, that we had made extraordinary free upon short acquaintance, and that a really wise young lady would have shown herself more backward. I think it was the bank-porter that put me from this ungallant train of thought. “I thoucht ye had been a lad of some kind o’ sense,” he began, shooting out his lips. “Ye’re no likely to gang far this gate. A fule and his siller’s shune parted. Eh, but ye’re a green callant!” he cried, “an’ a veecious, tae! Cleikin’ up wi’ baubeejoes!” “If you dare to speak of the young lady. . . ” I began. “Leddy!” he cried. “Haud us and safe us, whatten leddy? Ca’ _thon_ a leddy? The toun’s fu’ o’ them. Leddies! Man, its weel seen ye’re no very acquant in Embro!” A clap of anger took me. “Here,” said I, “lead me where I told you, and keep your foul mouth shut!”