“Who, I?” said the mendicant--“Lord bless your honour, naebody sall ken a word about it frae me, mair than if the bit bourock had been there since Noah’s flood. But, Lord, they tell me your honour has gien Johnnie Howie acre for acre of the laigh crofts for this heathery knowe! Now, if he has really imposed the bourock on ye for an ancient wark, it’s my real opinion the bargain will never haud gude, if you would just bring down your heart to try it at the law, and say that he beguiled ye.” “Provoking scoundrel!” muttered the indignant Antiquary between his teeths--“I’ll have the hangman’s lash and his back acquainted for this.” And then, in a louder tone,--“Never mind, Edie--it is all a mistake.” “Troth, I am thinking sae,” continued his tormentor, who seemed to have pleasure in rubbing the galled wound, “troth, I aye thought sae; and it’s no sae lang since I said to Luckie Gemmers, Never think you, luckie’ said I, that his honour Monkbarns would hae done sic a daft-like thing as to gie grund weel worth fifty shillings an acre, for a mailing that would be dear o’a pund Scots. Na, na,’ quo’ I, depend upon’t the lard’s been imposed upon wi that wily do-little deevil, Johnnie Howie.’ But Lord haud a care o’ us, sirs, how can that be,’ quo’ she again, when the laird’s sae book-learned, there’s no the like o’ him in the country side, and Johnnie Howie has hardly sense eneugh to ca’ the cows out o’ his kale-yard?’ Aweel, aweel,’ quo’ I, but ye’ll hear he’s circumvented him with some of his auld-warld stories,’--for ye ken, laird, yon other time about the bodle that ye thought was an auld coin”-- “Go to the devil!” said Oldbuck; and then in a more mild tone, as one that was conscious his reputation lay at the mercy of his antagonist, he added--“Away with you down to Monkbarns, and when I come back, I’ll send ye a bottle of ale to the kitchen.” “Heaven reward your honour!” This was uttered with the true mendicant whine, as, setting his pike-staff before him, he began to move in the direction of Monkbarns.--“But did your honour,” turning round, “ever get back the siller ye gae to the travelling packman for the bodle?” “Curse thee, go about thy business!” “Aweel, aweel, sir, God bless your honour! I hope ye’ll ding Johnnie Howie yet, and that I’ll live to see it.” And so saying, the old beggar moved off, relieving Mr. Oldbuck of recollections which were anything rather than agreeable. “Who is this familiar old gentleman?” said Lovel, when the mendicant was out of hearing.