atience.

"Some call me George Monk," replied the stranger mildly, "others, Honest
George. I am a general in the Parliamentary army." Thomas reverentially
raised his hand to his bonnet, and bowed his head.

"Then pardon me, sir," added Margaret, "and if ye indeed be the guid and
gallant general, sma' offence will ye tak at onything that may be said
amiss by a country laddie. We are tenants o' the Lord o' Lauderdale,
whom ye now keep in captivity; and, though we mayna think as he thinks,
yet we never faund him but a guid landlord; and little guid, in my
opinion, it can do ony body to keep him, as he has been noo for nine
years, caged up like a bird. Therefore, though oor ain business that has
brocht us up to London should fail, I winna regret the journey, since it
has afforded me an opportunity o' seein yer Excellency, and soliciting
yer interest, which maun be pooerfu' in behalf o' oor laird, and that ye
would release him frae his prison, and, if he michtna remain in this
countrie, obtain permission for him to gang abroad."

"Ye plead fairly and honestly for yer laird, fair youth," returned the
general; "yet, though he is no man to be trusted, I needs say he hath
had his portion of captivity measured out abundantly; and, since ye have
minded me of him, ere a week go round I will think of what may be done
for Lauderdale." Other questions were asked and answered--some truly,
and some evasively; and Thomas and Margaret blessing Honest George in
their hearts, went on their way rejoicing at having met him.

On arriving in London, she laid aside the shepherd's garb in which she
had journeyed, and resumed her wonted apparel. On the second day after
their arrival, she went out upon Tower-hill, dressed as a Scottish
peasant girl, with a basket on her arm; and in the basket were a few
ballads, and the bannock of Tollishill. She affected silliness, and,
acting the part of a wandering minstrel, went singing her ballads
towards the gate of the Tower. Thomas followed her at a distance. Her
appearance interested the guard; and as she stood singing before the
gate--"What want ye, pretty face?" inquired the officer of the guard.
"Your alms, if you please," said she, smiling innocently, "and to sing a
bonny Scotch sang to the Laird o' Lauderdale."

The officer and the sentinels laughed; and, after she had sang them
another song or two, she was permitted to enter the gate, and a soldier
pointed out to her the room in which Lauderdale