‘An’ is this Kittlestonheugh’s oe? I’m sure it’s a vera pitiful thing o’ you, lucky, to take compassion on the orphan; hae, my laddie, there’s a saxpence.’ ‘Saxpence, gudeman!’ exclaimed the Provost’s lady, ‘ye’ll ne’er even your han’ wi’ a saxpence to the like of Kittlestonheugh, for sae we’re bound in nature to call him, landless though his lairdship now be; poor bairn, I’m wae for’t. Ye ken his mother was sib to mine by the father’s side, and blood’s thicker than water ony day.’ Generosity is in some degree one of the necessary qualifications of a Glasgow magistrate, and Provost Gorbals being as well endowed with it as any of his successors have been since, was not displeased with the benevolent warmth of his wife, especially when he understood that Claud was of their own kin. On the contrary, he said affectionately,-- ‘Really it was vera thoughtless o’ me, Liezy, my dear; but ye ken I have na an instinct to make me acquaint wi’ the particulars of folk, before hearing about them. I’m sure no living soul can have a greater compassion than mysel’ for gentle blood come to needcessity.’ Mrs. Gorbals, however, instead of replying to this remark--indeed, what could she say, for experience had taught her that it was perfectly just--addressed herself again to Maudge. ‘And whar dost t’ou live? and what hast t’ou to live upon?’ ‘I hae but the mercy of Providence,’ was the humble answer of honest Maudge, ‘and a garret-room in John Sinclair’s lan’. I ettle as weel as I can for a morsel, by working stockings; but Claud’s a rumbling laddie, and needs mair than I hae to gi’e him: a young appetite’s a growing evil in the poor’s aught.’ The Provost and his wife looked kindly at each other, and the latter added,-- ‘Gudeman, ye maun do something for them. It’ll no fare the waur wi’ our basket and our store.’ And Maudge was in consequence requested to bring Claud with her that evening to the Provost’s House in the Bridgegate. ‘I think,’ added Mrs. Gorbals, ‘that our Hughoc’s auld claes will just do for him; and Maudge, keep a good heart, we’ll no let thee want. I won’er t’ou did na think of making an application to us afore.’ ‘No,’ replied the old woman, ‘I could ne’er do that--I would hae been in an unco strait before I would hae begget on my own account; and how could I think o’ disgracing the family? Any help that the Lord may dispose your hearts to gi’e, I’ll accept wi’ great thankfulness, but an almous is what I hope He’ll ne’er put it upon me to seek; and though Claud be for the present a weight and burden, yet, an he’s sparet, he’ll be able belyve to do something for himsel’.’