edclothes aired and put to sun-dry; for nothing would make me sleep in
such a pickle.

"Is this my house or yours?" said he, in his keen voice, and then all of
a sudden broke off. "Na, na," said he, "I did na mean that. What's mine
is yours, Davie my man, and what's yours is mine. Blood's thicker than
water; and there's naebody but you and me that ought the name." And then
on he rambled about the family, and its ancient greatness, and his
father that began to enlarge the house, and himself that stopped the
building as a sinful waste; and this put it in my head to give him
Jennet Clouston's message.

"The limmer!" he cried. "Twelve hunner and fifteen--that's every day
since I had the limmer rowpit![3] Dod, David, I'll have her roasted on
red peats before I'm by with it! A witch--a proclaimed witch! I'll aff
and see the session-clerk."

And with that he opened a chest, and got out a very old and
well-preserved blue coat and waistcoat, and a good enough beaver hat,
both without lace. These he threw on anyway, and, taking a staff from
the cupboard, locked all up again, and was for setting out, when a
thought arrested him.

"I canna leave you by yoursel' in the house," said he. "I'll have to
lock you out."

The blood came to my face. "If you lock me out," I said, "it'll be the
last you'll see of me in friendship."

He turned very pale, and sucked his mouth in. "This is no' the way," he
said, looking wickedly at a corner of the floor--"this is no' the way to
win my favour, David."

"Sir," says I, "with a proper reverence for your age and our common
blood, I do not value your favour at a bodle's purchase. I was brought
up to have a good conceit of myself; and if you were all the uncle, and
all the family, I had in the world, ten times over, I wouldn't buy your
liking at such prices."

Uncle Ebenezer went and looked out of the window for a while. I could
see him all trembling and twitching, like a man with palsy. But when he
turned round, he had a smile upon his face.

"Well, well," said he, "we must bear and forbear. I'll no' go; that's
all that's to be said of it."

"Uncle Ebenezer," I said, "I can make nothing out of this. You use me
like a thief; you hate to have me in this house; you let me see it,
every word and every minute: it's not possible that you can like me; and
as for me, I've spoken to you as I never thought to speak to any man.
Why do you seek to keep me, then? Let me gang back--let me gang back to