ver deny, in looking back upon what followed, that I was
eminently stockish; and I must say the ladies were well drilled to have
so long a patience with me. The aunt indeed sat close at her embroidery,
only looking now and again and smiling; but the misses, and especially
the eldest, who was besides the most handsome, paid me a score of
attentions which I was very ill able to repay. It was all in vain to
tell myself I was a young fellow of some worth as well as good estate,
and had no call to feel abashed before these lasses, the eldest not so
much older than myself, and no one of them by any probability half as
learned. Reasoning would not change the fact; and there were times when
the colour came into my face to think I was shaved that day for the
first time.

The talk going, with all their endeavours, very heavily, the eldest took
pity on my awkwardness, sat down to her instrument, of which she was a
passed mistress, and entertained me for a while with playing and
singing, both in the Scots and in the Italian manners; this put me more
at my ease, and being reminded of Alan's air that he had taught me in
the hole near Carriden, I made so bold as to whistle a bar or two, and
ask if she knew that.

She shook her head. "I never heard a note of it," said she. "Whistle it
all through. And now once again," she added, after I had done so.

Then she picked it out upon the keyboard, and (to my surprise) instantly
enriched the same with well-sounding chords, and sang, as she played,
with a very droll expression and broad accent:

"Haenae I got just the lilt of it?
Isnae this the tune that ye whustled?"

"You see," she says, "I can do the poetry too, only it won't rhyme." And
then again:

"I am Miss Grant, sib to the Advocate:
You, I believe, are Dauvit Balfour."

I told her how much astonished I was by her genius.

"And what do you call the name of it?" she asked.

"I do not know the real name," said I. "I just call it _Alan's air_."

She looked at me directly in the face. "I shall call it _David's air_,"
said she; "though if it's the least like what your namesake of Israel
played to Saul I would never wonder that the king got little good by it,
for it's but melancholy music. Your other name I do not like; so, if you
was ever wishing to hear your tune again you are to ask for it by mine."

This was said with a significance that gave my heart a jog. "Why that,
Miss Grant?" I asked.

"Why," says she