The
whisky-bottle was brought out, and all partook, save still the last.
Miss Lizzie went to order their supper.
'Noo, gentlemen,' said Miss Letty, 'wad ony o' ye like to gang an'
change yer hose, and pit on a pair o' slippers?'
Several declined, saying they would wait until they had had their
supper; the roads had been quite dry, &c., &c. One said he would,
and another said his feet were blistered.
'Hoot awa'!'2 exclaimed Miss Letty.--'Here, Peggy!' she cried, going
to the door; 'tak a pail o' het watter up to the chackit room. Jist
ye gang up, Mr. Cameron, and Peggy 'll see to yer feet.--Noo, sir,
will ye gang to yer room an' mak yersel' comfortable?--jist as gin
ye war at hame, for sae ye are.'
She addressed the stranger thus. He replied in a low indifferent
tone,
'No, thank you; I must be off again directly.'
He was from Caithness, and talked no Scotch.
''Deed, sir, ye'll do naething o' the kin'. Here ye s' bide, tho' I
suld lock the door.'
'Come, come, Ericson, none o' your nonsense!' said one of his
fellows. 'Ye ken yer feet are sae blistered ye can hardly put ane by
the ither.--It was a' we cud du, mem, to get him alang the last
mile.'
'That s' be my business, than,' concluded Miss Letty.
She left the room, and returning in a few minutes, said, as a matter
of course, but with authority,
'Mr. Ericson, ye maun come wi' me.'
Then she hesitated a little. Was it maidenliness in the waning
woman of five-and-forty? It was, I believe; for how can a woman
always remember how old she is? If ever there was a young soul in
God's world, it was Letty Napier.
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