'Letty,' she said, 'wha's that? I could amaist sweir to Black
Geordie's fit.'
'A' four o' them, I think,' returned Miss Letty, as the horse,
notwithstanding, or perhaps in consequence of his fatigue, began to
paw and move about on the stones impatiently.
The rider had not yet spoken.
'He'll be efter some o' 's deevil-ma'-care sculduddery. But jist
rin to the door, Letty, or Lizzy 'll be there afore ye, and maybe
she wadna be ower ceevil. What can he be efter noo?'
'What wad the grew (grayhound) be efter but maukin (hare)?' returned
Miss Letty.
'Hoot! nonsense! He kens naething aboot her. Gang to the door,
lassie.'
Miss Letty obeyed.
'Wha's there?' she asked, somewhat sharply, as she opened it, 'that
neither chaps (knocks) nor ca's?--Preserve 's a'! is't you, my
lord?'
'Hoo ken ye me, Miss Letty withoot seein' my face?'
'A'body at The Boar's Heid kens Black Geordie as weel 's yer
lordship's ain sel'. But whaur comes yer lordship frae in sic a
nicht as this?'
'From Russia. Never dismounted between Moscow and Aberdeen. The
ice is bearing to-night.'
And the baron laughed inside the upturned collar of his cloak, for
he knew that strangely-exaggerated stories were current about his
feats in the saddle.
'That's a lang ride, my lord, and a sliddery. And what's yer
lordship's wull?'
'Muckle ye care aboot my lordship to stand jawin' there in a night
like this! Is nobody going to take my horse?'
'I beg yer lordship's pardon.
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