'Oh! damn your brandy! Bring me a gill of good Glendronach.' 'Rin, Letty. His lordship's cauld.--I canna rise to offer ye the airm-cheir, my lord.' 'I can get one for myself, thank heaven!' 'Lang may yer lordship return sic thanks.' 'For I'm only new begun, ye think, Miss Naper. Well, I don't often trouble heaven with my affairs. By Jove! I ought to be heard when I do.' 'Nae doobt ye will, my lord, whan ye seek onything that's fit to be gien ye.' 'True. Heaven's gifts are seldom much worth the asking.' 'Haud yer tongue, my lord, and dinna bring doon a judgment upo' my hoose, for it wad be missed oot o' Rothieden.' 'You're right there, Miss Naper. And here comes the whisky to stop my mouth.' The Baron of Rothie sat for a few minutes with his feet on the fender before Miss Letty's blazing fire, without speaking, while he sipped the whisky neat from a wine-glass. He was a man about the middle height, rather full-figured, muscular and active, with a small head, and an eye whose brightness had not yet been dimmed by the sensuality which might be read in the condition rather than frame of his countenance. But while he spoke so pleasantly to the Miss Napiers, and his forehead spread broad and smooth over the twinkle of his hazel eye, there was a sharp curve on each side of his upper lip, half-way between the corner and the middle, which reminded one of the same curves in the lip of his ancestral boar's head, where it was lifted up by the protruding tusks. These curves disappeared, of course, when he smiled, and his smile, being a lord's, was generally pronounced irresistible. He was good-natured, and nowise inclined to stand upon his rank, so long as he had his own way. 'Any customers by the mail to-night, Miss Naper?' he asked, in a careless tone. 'Naebody partic'lar, my lord.' 'I thought ye never let anybody in that wasn't particularly particular. No foot-passengers--eh?' 'Hoot, my lord! that's twa year ago. Gin I had jaloosed him to be a fren' o' yer lordship's, forby bein' a lord himsel', ye ken as weel 's I du that I wadna hae sent him ower the gait to Luckie Happit's, whaur he wadna even be ower sure o' gettin' clean sheets. But gin lords an' lords' sons will walk afit like ither fowk, wha's to ken them frae ither fowk?' 'Well, Miss Naper, he was no lord at all. He was nothing but a factor-body doon frae Glenbucket.' 'There was sma' hairm dune than, my lord. I'm glaid to hear 't. But what'll yer lordship hae to yer supper?' 'I would like a dish o' your chits and nears (sweetbreads and kidneys).' 'Noo, think o' that!' returned the landlady, laughing. 'You great fowk wad hae the verra coorse o' natur' turned upside doon to shuit yersels. Wha ever heard o' caure (calves) at this time o' the year?' 'Well, anything you like. Who was it came by the mail, did you say?' 'I said naebody partic'lar, my lord.' 'Well, I'll just go and have a look at Black Geordie.'