'Here's a lad speerin' for Mistress Sangster, gentlemen,' said Mrs. Tuppeny opening the door and pushing in a damp and touselled-looking youth, who grasped his dripping 'Tam o' Shanter' tightly in both hands. 'I was to speer for Mistress Sangster hersel.' 'She has not come in yet, but I am her son.' 'An' there's Master Brown, the young leddy's brither,' added Mrs. Tuppeny, 'I'm thinkin' it'll be a' richt.' 'A weel, sir, General Drysdale sends his compliments to Mistress Sangster---- He sends his compliments' (and he looked into the crown of his hat as though he expected to find them there) 'an' he's taen the leeberty o' bringin' Miss Brown hame wi' him til Inchbracken, to dry hersel', an' he'll tak her hame the morn. He fand her e'y glen, down by fornent the Herder's Scaur, a' weel an' droukit like, an' for fear she suld tak the cauld, he juist on wi' her til a pownie, an' they're gane skelpin' hame til Inchbracken.' 'Very kind of General Drysdale,' said Roderick, giving the messenger a shilling. 'Here! Mrs. Tuppeny, give him a jorum of your toddy! He looks as wet as any of us.' 'An it's yer pleasure, sir, I'se gie him a gude drink o' yill---- Cock the like o' _him_ wi' the best Glenlivet! An' I'm no for giein' toddy to thae hafflin callants, no ways; they dinna need it, an' it's an ill trick to learn them. The weet's nae harm tae cottar folks' bairns, they're aye plouterin' e'y burns, an' it juist keeps them caller. But say the word, sir, an' he's hae the yill!' and so saying she pulled the messenger out before her and closed the door. 'I can't say much for your sister's politeness, Brown,' said Peter. 'When a lady accepts a man's escort, she is bound to stick to it, I should say, and not go off with the first stranger who rides up in the mist, without even a word of apology or farewell. I don't see why she could not have stuck by me.' 'And broken her neck down that precipice where you so nearly stuck fast yourself?' said Roderick. 'Your hands seem to have been full enough taking care of yourself. I think one may without presumption or profanity regard General Drysdale's opportune appearance as providential.' 'But it wasn't General Drysdale's opportune appearance! It was that stuck-up puppy his son.' 'And a far more ominous appearance for your peace, too, my boy,' said Wallowby with a chuckle. 'But grin and bear it, old man. You will only be laughed at if you get mad.' Mrs. Tuppeny looked in again. 'Mister Brown! yer room's ready up the stair. Come awa, sir, an' tak aff yer claes, an' I'se dry them for ye. Ye'll get yer death, sir, an' ye bena quick! Juist see til the dub ye're stan'in' in! A' dreepit frae yersel! An' the reek frae yer fore pairts as ye staund fornent the lowe--ne'er mind the drap toddy-come awa! I'se brew ye a soup better an' stronger whan ye're in ower amang the blankets.'