leggit oye (grandson)
o' hers, Anerew's son?' asked Sampson.

'Ow! he'll be gaein' to the college, I'm thinkin'. He's a fine lad, and
a clever, they tell me,' said Mr. Thomson.

'Indeed, he's all that, and more too,' said the school-master.

'There's naething 'ull du but the college noo!' said MacGregor, whom
nobody heeded, for fear of again rousing his anger.

'Hoo 'ill she manage that, honest woman? She maun hae but little to
spare frae the cleedin' o' 'm.'

'She's a gude manager, Mistress Faukner. And, ye see, she has the
bleachgreen yet.'

'She doesna weir cotton sarks,' growled MacGregor. 'Mony's the wob o'
mine she's bleached and boucht tu!'

Nobody heeding him yet, he began to feel insulted, and broke in upon the
conversation with intent.

'Ye haena telt 's yet, Cocker,' he said, 'what that maister o' yours is
duin' here at this time o' the year. I wad ken that, gin ye please.'

'How should I know, Mr. MacGregor?' returned the factor, taking no
notice of the offensive manner in which the question was put.

'He's no a hair better nor ane o' thae Algerine pirates 'at Lord
Exmooth's het the hips o'--and that's my opingon.'

'He's nae amo' your feet, MacGregor,' said the banker. 'Ye micht jist
lat him lie.'

'Gin I had him doon, faith gin I wadna lat him lie! I'll jist tell ye
ae thing, gentlemen, that cam' to my knowledge no a hunner year ago. An'
it's a' as true 's gospel, though I hae aye held my tongue aboot it till
this verra nicht. Ay! ye'll a' hearken noo; but it's no lauchin', though
there was sculduddery eneuch, nae doobt, afore it cam' that len'th. And
mony a het drap did the puir lassie greet, I can tell ye. Faith! it was
no lauchin' to her. She was a servan' o' oors, an' a ticht bonnie lass
she was. They ca'd her the weyver's bonny Mary--that's the name she gaed
by. Weel, ye see--'

MacGregor was interrupted by a sound from the further end of the room.
The stranger, whom most of them had by this time forgotten, had risen,
and was approaching the table where they sat.

'Guid guide us!' interrupted several under their breaths, as all rose,
'it's Lord Sandy himsel'!'

'I thank you, gentleman,' he said, with a mixture of irony and contempt,
'for the interest you take in my private history. I should have thought
it had been as little to the taste as it is to the honour of some of you
to listen to such a farrago of lies.'

'Lees! my lord,' said MacGregor, starting to his feet. Mr. Cocker loo