His plan was to watch the house until he saw some entertainment going
on, then present himself as if he had but just arrived from her
ladyship’s country seat. At such a time no one would acquaint her with
his appearance, and he would, as if it were but a matter of course, at
once take his share in waiting on the guests. By this means he might
perhaps get her a little accustomed to his presence before she could be
at leisure to challenge it.
When he put Kelpie in her stall the last time for a season, and ran
into the house to get his plaid for Lizzy, who was waiting him near
the tunnel, he bethought himself that he had better take with him also
what other of his personal requirements he could carry. He looked about
therefore, and finding a large carpet-bag in one of the garret rooms,
hurried into it some of his clothes--amongst them the Highland dress he
had worn as henchman to the marquis, and added the great Lossie pipes
his father had given to old Duncan as well, but which the piper had
not taken with him when he left Lossie House. The said Highland dress
he now resolved to put on, as that in which latterly Florimel had been
most used to see him: in it he would watch his opportunity of gaining
admission to the house.
The next morning Blue Peter made his appearance early. They went
out together, spent the day in sight-seeing, and, on Malcolm’s part
chiefly, in learning the topography of London.
In Hyde Park Malcolm told his friend that he had sent for Kelpie.
“She’ll be the deid o’ ye i’ thae streets, as fu’ o’ wheels as the sea
o’ fish: twize I’ve been ’maist gr’un to poother o’ my ro’d here,” said
Peter.
“Ay, but ye see, oot here amo’ the gentry it’s no freely sae ill, an’
the ro’ds are no a’ stane; an’ here, ye see, ’s the place whaur they
come, leddies an’ a’, to ha’e their rides thegither. What I’m fleyt for
is ’at she’ll be brackin’ legs wi’ her deevilich kickin’.”
“Haud her upo’ dry strae an’ watter for a whilie, till her banes begin
to cry oot for something to hap them frae the cauld: that’ll quaiet her
a bit,” said Peter.
“It’s a’ ye ken!” returned Malcolm. “She’s aye the wau-natur’d, the
less she has to ate. Na, na; she maun be weel lined. The deevil in her
maun lie warm, or she’ll be neither to haud nor bin’. There’s nae doobt
she’s waur to haud in whan she’s in guid condeetion; but she’s nane sae
like to tak a body by the sma’ o’ the back, an’ shak the inside oot o’
’im, as she maist did ae day to the herd-laddie at the ferm, only he
had an auld girth aboot the mids o’ ’im for a belt, an’ he tuik the
less scaith.”
“Cudna we gang an’ see the maister the day?” said Blue Peter, changing
the subject.
He meant Mr Graham, the late schoolmaster of Portlossie, whom the
charge of heretical teaching had driven from the place.
“We canna weel du that till we hear whaur he is. The last time Miss
Horn h’ard frae him, he was changin’ his lodgin’s, an’ ye see the kin’
o’ a place this Lon’on is,” answered Malcolm.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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