"Three a penny, sirr; they are no plenty the day," added she, in smooth
tones that carried conviction.

(Little liar; they were selling six a penny everywhere.)

"Saunders, buy them all, and be ever so long about it; count them, or
some nonsense."

"He's daft! he's daft! Oh, ye ken, Jean, an Ennglishman and a lorrd, twa
daft things thegither, he could na' miss the road. Coont them, lassie."

"Come away, Sandy, till I count them till ye," said Jean.

Saunders and Jean disappeared.

Business being out of sight, curiosity revived.

"An' what brings ye here from London, if ye please?" recommenced the
fair inquisitor.

"You have a good countenance; there is something in your face. I could
find it in my heart to tell you, but I should bore you."

"De'el a fear! Bore me, bore me! wheat's thaat, I wonder?"

"What is your name, madam? Mine is Ipsden."

"They ca' me Christie Johnstone."

"Well, Christie Johnstone, I am under the doctor's hands."

"Puir lad. What's the trouble?" (solemnly and tenderly.)

"Ennui!" (rather piteously.)

"Yawn-we? I never heerd tell o't."

"Oh, you lucky girl," burst out he; "but the doctor has undertaken to
cure me; in one thing you could assist me, if I am not presuming too far
on our short acquaintance. I am to relieve one poor distressed person
every day, but I mustn't do two. Is not that a bore?"

"Gie's your hand, gie's your hand. I'm vexed for ca'ing you daft. Hech!
what a saft hand ye hae. Jean, I'm saying, come here, feel this."

Jean, who had run in, took the viscount's hand from Christie.

"It never wroucht any," explained Jean. "And he has bonny hair," said
Christie, just touching his locks on the other side.

"He's a bonny lad," said Jean, inspecting him scientifically, and
pointblank.

"Ay, is he," said the other. "Aweel, there's Jess Rutherford, a widdy,
wi' four bairns, ye meicht do waur than ware your siller on her."

"Five pounds to begin?" inquired his lordship.

"Five pund! Are ye made o' siller? Ten schell'n!"

Saunders was rung for, and produced a one-pound note.

"The herrin' is five and saxpence; it's four and saxpence I'm awin ye,"
said the young fishwife, "and Jess will be a glad woman the neicht."

The settlement was effected, and away went the two friends, saying:

"Good-boye, vile count."

Their host fell into thought.

"When have I talked so much?" asked he of himself.

"Dr. Aberford, you are a wonderful man; I like your lower classes