They had gone about half-way to Portlossie, when a gentleman appeared, sauntering carelessly towards them, with a cigar in his mouth. It was Lord Meikleham. Malcolm was not the only one who knew him: Lizzy Findlay, only daughter of the Partan, and the prettiest girl in the company, blushed crimson: she had danced with him at Lossie House, and he had said things to her, by way of polite attention, which he would never have said had she been of his own rank. He would have lounged past, with a careless glance, but the procession halted by one consent, and the bride, taking a bottle and glass which her brother carried, proceeded to pour out a bumper of whisky, while the groomsman addressed Lord Meikleham. “Ye’re the bride’s first fut, sir,” he said. “What do you mean by that?” asked Lord Meikleham. “Here’s the bride, sir: she’ll tell ye.” Lord Meikleham lifted his hat. “Allow me to congratulate you,” he said. “Ye’re my first fut,” returned the bride eagerly yet modestly, as she held out to him the glass of whisky. “This is to console me for not being in the bridegroom’s place, I presume; but notwithstanding my jealousy, I drink to the health of both,” said the young nobleman, and tossed off the liquor.-- “Would you mind explaining to me what you mean by this ceremony?” he added, to cover a slight choking caused by the strength of the dram. “It’s for luck, sir,” answered Joseph Mair. “A first fut wha wadna bring ill luck upon a new-merried couple, maun aye du as ye hae dune this meenute--tak a dram frae the bride.” “Is that the sole privilege connected with my good fortune?” said Lord Meikleham. “If I take the bride’s dram, I must join the bride’s regiment.--My good fellow,” he went on, approaching Malcolm, “you have more than your share of the best things of this world.” For Malcolm had two partners, and the one on the side next Lord Meikleham, who, as he spoke, offered her his arm, was Lizzy Findlay. “No as shares gang, my lord,” returned Malcolm, tightening his arm on Lizzie’s hand. “Ye maunna gang wi’ ane o’ oor customs to gang _agane_ anither. Fisher-fowk’s ready eneuch to pairt wi’ their whusky, but no wi’ their lasses!--Na, haith!” Lord Meikleham’s face flushed, and Lizzy looked down, very evidently disappointed; but the bride’s father, a wrinkled and brown little man, with a more gentle bearing than most of them, interfered. “Ye see, my lord--gien it be sae I maun ca’ ye, an’ Ma’colm seems to ken--we’re like by oorsels for the present, an’ we’re but a rouch set o’ fowk for sic like ’s yer lordship to haud word o’ mou’ wi’; but gien it wad please ye to come ower the gait ony time i’ the evenin’, an’ tak yer share o’ what’s gauin’, ye sud be walcome, an’ we wad coont it a great honour frae sic ’s yer lordship.” “I shall be most happy,” answered Lord Meikleham; and taking off his hat he went his way.