rley choose some refreshment
after his journey? His honour was with the folk who were getting doon
the dark hag; the twa gardener lads (an emphasis on the word TWA) had
been ordered to attend him; and he had been just amusing himself in the
meantime with dressing Miss Rose's flower-bed, that he might be near to
receive his honour's orders, if need were: he was very fond of a garden,
but had little time for such divertisements.'

'He canna get it wrought in abune twa days in the week at no rate
whatever,' said Edward's fantastic conductor.

A grim look from the butler chastised his interference, and he commanded
him, by the name of Davie Gellatley, in a tone which admitted no
discussion, to look for his honour at the dark hag, and tell him there
was a gentleman from the south had arrived at the Ha'.

'Can this poor fellow deliver a letter?' asked Edward.

'With all fidelity, sir, to any one whom he respects. I would hardly
trust him with a long message by word of mouth--though he is more knave
than fool.'

Waverley delivered his credentials to Mr. Gellatley, who seemed to
confirm the butler's last observation, by twisting his features at him,
when he was looking another way, into the resemblance of the grotesque
face on the bowl of a German tobacco-pipe; after which, with an odd
conge to Waverley, he danced off to discharge his errand.

'He is an innocent, sir,' said the butler; 'there is one such in almost
every town in the country, but ours is brought far ben. He used to work
a day's turn weel eneugh; but he help'd Miss Rose when she was flemit
with the Laird of Killancureit's new English bull, and since that time
we ca' him Davie Do-little indeed we might ca' him Davie Do-naething,
for since he got that gay clothing, to please his honour and my young
mistress (great folks will have their fancies), he has done naething but
dance up and down about the TOUN, without doing a single turn, unless
trimming the laird's fishing-wand or busking his flies, or maybe
catching a dish of trouts at an orra-time. But here comes Miss Rose,
who, I take burden upon me for her, will be especially glad to see one
of the house of Waverley at her father's mansion at Tully-Veolan.'

But Rose Bradwardine deserves better of her unworthy historian, than to
be introduced at the end of a chapter.

In the meanwhile it may be noticed, that Waverley learned two things
from this colloquy; that in Scotland a single house was called a TOWN,
and