"Make your observations, Willie, and let me know how the land lies when you return. But, pray thee, keep out of the way of our worthy knight of Dunrod; and if thou shouldst chance to meet him, and he should question thee, seeing that you wear our livery, breathe no syllable of what thou art about, otherwise he may prove somewhat troublesome to both of us. At any rate, to a certainty, he would crop thy ears, Willie; and thou knowest, king though I be, I could not put them on again, nor give thee another pair in their stead. So keep those thou hast out of the hands of Sir Robert Lindsay of Dunrod, I pray thee." Charged with his mission, Willie, who had been often employed on matters of this kind before, proceeded to the street with the unsavoury name already mentioned; but, not knowing exactly where to find the house he wanted, he looked around him to see if he could see any one to whom he might apply for information. There happened to be nobody on the street at the time; but his eye at length fell on an old weaver--as, from the short green apron he wore, he appeared to be--standing at a door. Towards this person Willie now advanced, discarding, however, as much as possible, all appearance of having any particular object in view; for he prided himself on the caution and dexterity with which he managed all such matters as that he was now engaged in. "Fine day, honest man," said Willie, approaching the old weaver. "Gran wather for the hairst." "It's just that, noo," replied the old man, gazing at Willie with a look of inquiry. "Just uncommon pleesant wather." "A bit nice airy place up here," remarked the latter. "Ou ay, weel aneuch for that," replied the weaver. "But air 'll no fill the wame." "No very substantially," said Willie. "Some gran hooses up here, though. Wha's in that?" and he pointed to a very handsome mansion-house opposite. "That's the rector o' Hamilton's," replied the weaver. "And that ane there?" "That's the rector o' Carstairs'." "And that?" "That's the rector o' Erskine's." "'Od, but ye do leeve in a godly neighbourhood here," said Willie, impatient with these clerical iterations. "Do a' the best houses hereawa belang to the clergy?" "Indeed, the maist feck o' them," said the weaver. "Leave ye them alane for that. The best o' everything fa's to their share." "Yonder's anither handsome hoose, noo," said Willie, pointing to one he had not yet indicated. "Does yon belang to the clergy too?" "Ou no; yon's the late Mr Craig's," replied the weaver; "ane o' oor walthiest merchants, wha died some time ago." "Ou ay," said Willie, drily; "just sae. Gude mornin', friend." And thinking he had managed his inquiries very dexterously, he sauntered slowly away--still assuming to have no special object in view--towards the particular house just spoken of, and which, we need not say, was precisely the one he wanted.