‘Is she dead?’ said the pertinacious Mr. Threeper. ‘Folk said sae; and what every body says maun be true.’ ‘Then you don’t, of your own knowledge, know the fact?’ ‘Before I can answer that, I would like to ken what a fact is?’ The counsel shifted his ground, without noticing the question; and said,-- ‘But I understand, Mr. Walkinshaw, you have still a child that you call your Betty Bodle?’ ‘And what business hae ye wi’ that?’ said the natural, offended. ‘I never saw sic a stock o’ impudence as ye hae in my life.’ ‘I did not mean to offend you, Mr. Walkinshaw; I was only anxious, for the ends of justice, to know if you consider the child you call Betty Bodle as your daughter?’ ‘I’m sure,’ replied Walter, ‘that the ends o’ justice would be meikle better served an ye would hae done wi’ your speering.’ ‘It is, I must confess, strange that I cannot get a direct answer from you, Mr. Walkinshaw. Surely, as a parent, you should know your child!’ exclaimed the advocate, peevishly. ‘An I was a mother ye might say sae.’ Mr. Threeper began to feel, that, hitherto, he had made no impression; and forming an opinion of Walter’s shrewdness far beyond what he was led to expect, he stooped, and conferred a short time with Mr. Pitwinnoch. On resuming his wonted posture, he said,-- ‘I do not wish, Mr. Walkinshaw, to harass your feelings; but I am not satisfied with the answer you have given respecting your child; and I beg you will be a little more explicit. Is the little girl that lives with you your daughter?’ ‘I dinna like to gie you any satisfaction on that head; for Mr. Keelevin said, ye would bother me if I did.’ ‘Ah!’ exclaimed the triumphant advocate, ‘have I caught you at last?’ A murmur of disappointment ran through all the Court; and Walter looked around coweringly and afraid. ‘So Mr. Keelevin has primed you, has he? He has instructed you what to say?’ ‘No,’ said the poor natural; ‘he instructed me to say nothing.’ ‘Then why did he tell you that I would bother you?’ ‘I dinna ken, speer at himsel; there he sits.’ ‘No, sir! I ask you,’ said the advocate, grandly. ‘I’m wearied, Mr. Keelevin,’ said Walter, helplessly, as he looked towards his disconsolate agent. ‘May I no come away?’ The honest lawyer gave a deep sigh; to which all the spectators sympathizingly responded. ‘Mr. Walkinshaw,’ said the Sheriff, ‘don’t be alarmed--we are all friendly disposed towards you; but it is necessary, for the satisfaction of the jury, that you should tell us what you think respecting the child that lives with you.’ Walter smiled and said, ‘I hae nae objection to converse wi’ a weel-bred gentleman like you; but that barking terrier in the wig, I can thole him no longer.’ ‘Well, then,’ resumed the judge, ‘is the little girl your daughter?’ ‘’Deed is she--my ain dochter.’ ‘How can that be, when, as you acknowledged, every body said your dochter was dead?’