Once in the week it was Mary Seton’s custom to visit the town of Edinburgh on foot, to make purchases for her mistress and her comrades, of those odds and ends which ladies consume in such wonderful quantities. The wilful little damsel had taken a great fancy to the borderer, as you may see a child sometimes pleased with a huge Newfoundland dog. Such attachments are not remarkable for reciprocity. The biped, half-pitiful, half-amused, entertains a feeble liking for so faithful an attendant; the quadruped wishes no better lot than to serve its little idol slavishly all its life, and die licking its hand. How the child cuffs it and teases it, and makes the noble animal ridiculous, pulling its ears and tail! ‘Dick-o’-the-Cleugh’ had but one day now in his week instead of seven. He observed, not without inward gratulation, that his attendance on these saints’ days, so to speak, was by no means unwelcome; and Mary Seton, on her return to the palace, never omitted to inform the Queen that she had seen Earl Bothwell’s henchman, neither did her mistress take her to task herself, nor suffer Mary Beton to do so, for these interviews. So the strangely matched pair moved along the High Street, and the lady, who, in addition to his other good qualities, had discovered the borderer to be a capital listener, told him the Court news, for the edification of his chief, with considerable volubility. ‘We’re all in confusion now,’ said she, one bright winter’s day, as she tripped along the cleaner portion of the pavement with a light basket in her hand, which sometimes as a great favour she permitted her Newfoundland to carry, while that faithful animal stamped contentedly alongside in the gutter. ‘The palace is turned inside out. We have got the “new acquaintance” at Holyrood.’ Dick looked as if he didn’t understand, and yet did not quite like the information. Something that would have been jealousy in a more presumptuous admirer, shot through his great frame. Had he been physically a retriever, he would have put his tail between his legs. ‘I dinna like acquaintances,’ said he, looking _down_ at her bodily a foot or so; looking _up_ at her metaphorically any number of yards. ‘Give me friends, Mistress Seton, auld friends, an’ no too mony o’ them.’ ‘You wouldn’t like this acquaintance!’ laughed the young lady, merrily, whereat her companion looked on her admiringly, as one who listens to sweet music. ‘He’s an acquaintance that would put _you_ on your back readily, for as strong as you think yourself; he has overcome the Queen and the household and Mr Randolph and Mary Beton, and all of them but _me_.’ ‘No,’ replied the borderer. He did not the least understand what she meant, but admired her intensely, nevertheless.