‘Sorrow be in your thrapple then!’ these were the first articulate words,
‘will ye no let me hear what the man wants, wi’ your yaffing?’
‘Am I far from Kippletringan, good dame?’
‘Frae Kippletringan!!!’ in an exalted tone of wonder, which we can but
faintly express by three points of admiration. ‘Ow, man! ye should hae
hadden eassel to Kippletringan; ye maun gae back as far as the whaap, and
baud the whaap till ye come to Ballenloan, and then--’
‘This will never do, good dame! my horse is almost quite knocked up; can
you not give me a night’s lodgings?’
‘Troth can I no; I am a lone woman, for James he’s awa to Drumshourloch
Fair with the year-aulds, and I daurna for my life open the door to ony
o’ your gang-there-out sort o’ bodies.’
‘But what must I do then, good dame? for I can’t sleep here upon the road
all night.’
‘Troth, I kenna, unless ye like to gae down and speer for quarters at the
Place. I’se warrant they’ll tak ye in, whether ye be gentle or semple.’
‘Simple enough, to be wandering here at such a time of night,’ thought
Mannering, who was ignorant of the meaning of the phrase; ‘but how shall
I get to the PLACE, as you call it?’
‘Ye maun baud wessel by the end o’ the loan, and take tent o’ the
jaw-hole.’
‘O, if ye get to eassel and wessel again, I am undone! Is there nobody
that could guide me to this Place? I will pay him handsomely.’
The word pay operated like magic. ‘Jock, ye villain,’ exclaimed the voice
from the interior, ‘are ye lying routing there, and a young gentleman
seeking the way to the Place? Get up, ye fause loon, and show him the way
down the muckle loaning. He’ll show you the way, sir, and I’se warrant
ye’ll be weel put up; for they never turn awa naebody frae the door; and
ye ‘ll be come in the canny moment, I’m thinking, for the laird’s
servant--that’s no to say his body-servant, but the helper like--rade
express by this e’en to fetch the houdie, and he just staid the drinking
o’ twa pints o’ tippenny to tell us how my leddy was ta’en wi’ her
pains.’
‘Perhaps,’ said Mannering, ‘at such a time a stranger’s arrival might be
inconvenient?’
‘Hout, na, ye needna be blate about that; their house is muckle eneugh,
and decking time’s aye canty time.’
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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