“Very true, billies, and my blood was e’en boiling at it; but the sight o’ Grace Armstrong has settled it brawly.” “But the stocking, Hobbie’” said John Elliot; “we’re utterly ruined. Harry and I hae been to gather what was on the outby land, and there’s scarce a cloot left. I kenna how we’re to carry on--We maun a’ gang to the wars, I think. Westburnflat hasna the means, e’en if he had the will, to make up our loss; there’s nae mends to be got out o’ him, but what ye take out o’ his banes. He hasna a four-footed creature but the vicious blood thing he rides on, and that’s sair trash’d wi’ his night wark. We are ruined stoop and roop.” Hobbie cast a mournful glance on Grace Armstrong, who returned it with a downcast look and a gentle sigh. “Dinna be cast down, bairns,” said the grandmother, “we hae gude friends that winna forsake us in adversity. There’s Sir Thomas Kittleloof is my third cousin by the mother’s side, and he has come by a hantle siller, and been made a knight-baronet into the bargain, for being ane o’ the commissioners at the Union.” “He wadna gie a bodle to save us frae famishing,” said Hobbie; “and, if he did, the bread that I bought wi’t would stick in my throat, when I thought it was part of the price of puir auld Scotland’s crown and independence.” “There’s the Laird o’ Dunder, ane o’ the auldest families in Tiviotdale.” “He’s in the tolbooth, mother--he’s in the Heart of Mid-Louden for a thousand merk he borrowed from Saunders Wyliecoat the writer.” “Poor man!” exclaimed Mrs. Elliot, “can we no send him something, Hobbie?” “Ye forget, grannie, ye forget we want help oursells,” said Hobbie, somewhat peevishly. “Troth did I, hinny,” replied the good-natured lady, “just at the instant; it’s sae natural to think on ane’s blude relations before themsells;--But there’s young Earnscliff.” “He has ower little o’ his ain; and siccan a name to keep up, it wad be a shame,” said Hobbie, “to burden him wi’ our distress. And I’ll tell ye, grannie, it’s needless to sit rhyming ower the style of a’ your kith, kin, and allies, as if there was a charm in their braw names to do us good; the grandees hae forgotten us, and those of our ain degree hae just little eneugh to gang on wi’ themsells; ne’er a friend hae we that can, or will, help us to stock the farm again.” “Then, Hobbie, me maun trust in Him that can raise up friends and fortune out o’ the bare moor, as they say.” Hobbie sprung upon his feet. “Ye are right, grannie!” he exclaimed; “ye are right. I do ken a friend on the bare moor, that baith can and will help us--The turns o’ this day hae dung my head clean hirdie-girdie. I left as muckle gowd lying on Mucklestane-Moor this morning as would plenish the house and stock the Heugh-foot twice ower, and I am certain sure Elshie wadna grudge us the use of it.” “Elshie!” said his grandmother in astonishment; “what Elshie do you mean?” “What Elshie should I mean, but Canny Elshie, the Wight o’ Mucklestane,” replied Hobbie.