"Five years auld exactly, this blessed day," answered the lady; "so we may look into the English gentleman's paper." Mr. Bertram liked to show his authority in trifles. "No, my dear, not till to-morrow. The last time I was at quarter-sessions, the sheriff told us, that dies--that dies inceptus--in short, you don't understand Latin, but it means that a term-day is not begun till it's ended." "That sounds like nonsense, my dear." "May be so, my dear; but it may be very good law for all that. I am sure, speaking of term-days, I wish, as Frank Kennedy says, that Whitsunday would kill Martinmas and be hanged for the murder--for there I have got a letter about that interest of Jenny Gairns's, and deil a tenant's been at the Place yet wi' a boddle [*A small copper coin] of rent,--nor will not till Candlemas--but, speaking of Frank Kennedy, I dare say he'll be here the day, for he was away round to Wigton to warn a king's ship that's lying in the bay about Dirk Hatteraick's lugger being on the coast again, and he'll be back this day; so we'll have a bottle of claret, and drink little Harry's health." "I wish," replied the lady, "Frank Kennedy would let Dirk Hatteraick alane. What needs he make himself mair busy than other folk? Cannot he sing his sang, and take his drink, and draw his salary, like Collector Snail, honest man, that never fashes [*Troubles] onybody? And I wonder at you, Laird, for meddling and making--Did we ever want to send for tea or brandy frae the Borough-town, when Dirk Hatteraick used to come quietly into the bay?" "Mrs. Bertram, you know nothing of these matters. Do you think it becomes a magistrate to let his own house be made a receptacle for smuggled goods? Frank Kennedy will show you the penalties in the Act, and ye ken yourself they used to put their run goods into the Auld Place of Ellangowan up by there." "Oh, dear, Mr. Bertram, and what the waur were the wa's and the vault o' the old castle for having a whin kegs o' brandy in them at an orra time? I am sure ye were not obliged to ken onything about it; and what the waur was the King that the lairds here got a soup o' drink, and the ladies their drap o' tea, at a reasonable rate?--it's a shame to them to pit such taxes on them!--and was na I much the better of these Flanders head and pinners, [*A head-dress with lappets] that Dirk Hatteraick sent me a' the way from Antwerp? It will be lang or the King sends me onything, or Frank Kennedy either. And then ye would quarrel with these gipsies too! I expect every day to hear the barn-yard's in a low." [*A flame] "I tell you once more, my dear, you don't understand these things--and there's Frank Kennedy, coming galloping up the avenue." "Aweel! aweel! Ellangowan," said the lady, raising her voice as the Laird left the room, "I wish ye may understand them yourself, that's a'!"