"Twa or three placks," said Geordie, throwing down some coppers on the table. "This is the 21st day o' April--your birthday, Geordie," said the mother; "an' as it has aye been our practice to hae something by common on that occasion, I'll gang down to Widow Johnston's an' get a pint o' the best, to drink yer health wi'." And Widow Willison did as she said. "Is Lady Maitland no awa wi' Sir Marmaduke, Geordie?" resumed his mother, when they were taking their meagre supper. "Na! na!" said Geordie; "they dinna like ane anither sae weel; an' I dinna wonder at Sir Marmaduke no likin' her, for I dinna like her mysel." "For what reason, Geordie?" asked his mother. "Because she doesna like me," answered the casuist. Now it happened that on the 19th day of February, after the conversation here detailed, that George Willison was wandering over the grounds of Warriston, on the north side of Edinburgh. He had been with a letter to the Laird of Warriston, and, in coming back, as was not uncommon with him, was musing, in a half dreaming, listless kind of state, as he sauntered through the planted grounds in the neighbourhood. His attention was in an instant arrested by the sounds of voices, and he stood, or rather sat down, behind a hedge and listened. The speakers were very near to him; for it was so very dark that they could not observe him. "I will stand at a little distance, Louise," said a voice, "and thou canst do the thing thyself. I could despatch thine, but I cannot do that good work to myself; for the mother rises in me, and unnerves me quite. Besides, thou didst promise to do me this service for the ten gold pieces I gave thee, and the many more I will yet give thee." "_Oui! oui!_ my lady; but de infant is so _fort_, so trong, dat it will be difficult for me to trottle her. Death, _la mort_, does not come ever when required; but I vill do my endeavour to trangle de leetle jade, vit as much activity as I can. Ha! ha! de leetle baggage tinks she is already _perdir_--she tombles so--be quiet, you _petite_ leetle deevil. It vill be de best vay, I tink, to do it on de ground. Hark! is dere not some person near?--my heart goes _en palpitant_." "It is nobody, thou fool," answered the lady; "it is only a rustling produced by a breath of wind among the trees." "Very vell, very vell, my Lady Maitland; dat is right. Now for de vork." "Stop until I am at a little distance; and, when thou hearest me cry 'Now,' finish the thing cleverly." The rustling of the lady's gown betokened that she had done as she said. The rustling ceased; and the word "Now," came from the mouth of the mother.