“My good woman, I want to see Mr Graeme,” said a strange voice; “I assure you I will take no denial from _you_, so it is needless to keep me here on the damp soil--my feet are quite wet enough already.” “Your feet are nae concern o’ mine,” said Mrs Mense, with some ill-humour in her tone; “nae doubt ye can change them when ye gang hame, like other folk. But my maister’s no heeding about seeing strangers; and sae I tell ye--no meaning ony disrespect--once for a’.” “But your master does not choose to let you answer for him, I presume,” said the stranger. “You can surely ask him at least.” “And wha has as guid a right to answer for him, puir lad!” said Mrs Mense, her voice sinking to an under-tone, “as me, that have fended for him a’ his days? I tell ye there’s nae need for asking, Sir; I ken weel enough he’ll no see onybody.” “This is insufferable!” said the applicant for admission. “Here, my good girl, do _you_ go and tell your master that I want particularly to speak with him--I, Doctor Pulvers of Edinburgh.” “Eh, I daurna for my life!” exclaimed the shriller voice of Janet, Mrs Mense’s niece; “I wadna face Mossgray for--” “Haud your peace, ye silly tawpie!” cried Mrs Mense. “Do ye mean to say _that’s_ like a gentleman, speiring at the fuil of a gilpie, and me here?” “Don’t be afraid, my girl,” said the stranger. “What is it that alarms you for Mossgray?” “If you say anither word o’ your havers, I’ll fell ye, Jen!” exclaimed my housekeeper, in a voice shrill with passion. Then I heard a slight noise, as if the girl had made her escape. “Well, Ma’am,” said the stranger, “I hope you’ll condescend to inform me what special reason you have that I should not see your master.” Mrs Mense seemed to falter. “I’ve nae special reason, Sir; only if Mossgray doesna heed about seeing strangers, it’s nae business o’ mine or yours either.” “But why does he object to see strangers?” persisted the pertinacious visitor. “I didna say he objected; I only said he wasna heeding; and it’s no my place to be aye asking the whys and the wherefores. Maybe you never were no weel, or had a sair heart yoursel? and if a gentleman like the laird canna be fashed wi’ a’ the gangrel bodies that come about the town, naebody has ony business wi’ that.” “But I am no gangrel body,” said the stranger. “Come now, you have kept me out long enough; if the young man is unwell, that is only another reason why I should see him--I’m a physician.” “I didna say he was no weel.” “Then in the name of wonder, what did you say?” exclaimed the stranger. “I shall have serious suspicions, I assure you, my good woman, if you answer me so. Why was the girl afraid to speak to her master? and what do you mean?” The heavy drops from the eaves had fallen one by one on my head--my hair was wet with them--my brow damp with more painful dew. I rang my bell hurriedly.