Which having done, he laid down his bundle of rods, dusted his hands, and commended himself to me to know how, and in what manner, he might serve my master. I told him that if he would write a letter to John Mure of Auchendrayne to bid him meet with Sir Thomas at the Chapel of St Leonard’s by the sandhills of Ayr, on the morrow’s morn at ten of the clock, and send it to Auchendrayne by one of his most trustworthy lads, it would be no small obligation. And furthermore that I would await an answer here in Maybole, having other business to transact. ’Good faith, Master Launcelot, I will do that—and gladsomely,’ said the little Dominie. So, having brought the school to order and set the classes to their work, he squared himself at his desk, and wrote fairly and elaborately as I told him. For the little man prided himself on his penmanship—which, indeed, Sir Thomas ever said was better than that of any law scrivener in Edinburgh. I reminded him of this, and Dominie Mure could hardly contain himself for pride. How strange that so small a thing should set up some men! Then, when he had finished and addressed it in the Italian manner, he called out, ’William Dalrymple, come hither!’ And, from the close-built ranks of the older scholars at the wall-desks, a plump-faced, ruddy boy arose. ’This,’ the Dominie said, ’is the son of a widow woman, and a steady lad that will truly do your message and bring you word again without delay or falsehood. He is called for a nickname Willie Glegfeet.’ So to William was delivered the letter and sundry copper coins for running the errand. Whereupon he took up the Vennel and through the High Street on the way to Auchendrayne like a hunted hare, for, as his name imports, he was wonderfully nimble of his feet. Having thus delivered my message, I thanked the Dominie very heartily, and went to the play of the golf green till the messenger should return. I had an excellent game, but, not playing with mine own clubs, I was beaten (though not at a great odds), by the young Laird of Gremmat, whose chin was hardly yet better of the cleaving it got on the fatal day at the Lady’s Carse. But this interfered naught with his putting. Now gaming on the green is uncommonly fretting to the temper, and more especially when you are losing with a man like Gremmat, who cries and shouts at every good stroke of his own and dispraises yours. Yet, owing to the well-kenned equality of my temper, and also because he was not yet fully recovered of his wound, I did not clout him over the sconse with my cleek, as I certainly was in a great mind more than once to do. We were yet hard at it, and the afternoon wearing on apace when I saw the little Dominie coming toward us with the boy William Dalrymple by his side. The schoolmaster held the letter in his hand and gave it back to me. ’William Dalrymple says that he found not the Laird of Auchendrayne in his own house, and has therefore brought back the letter.’