d," said Tyrrel, "the upshot of all this is, I hope,
that I am to stay and have dinner here?"

"What for no?" replied Mrs. Dods.

"And that I am to have the Blue room for a night or two--perhaps
longer?"

"I dinna ken that," said the dame.--"The Blue room is the best--and they
that get neist best, are no ill aff in this warld."

"Arrange it as you will," said the stranger, "I leave the whole matter
to you, mistress.--Meantime, I will go see after my horse."

"The merciful man," said Meg, when her guest had left the kitchen, "is
merciful to his beast.--He had aye something about him by ordinar, that
callant--But eh, sirs! there is a sair change on his cheek-haffit since
I saw him last!--He sall no want a good dinner for auld lang syne, that
I'se engage for."

Meg set about the necessary preparations with all the natural energy of
her disposition, which was so much exerted upon her culinary cares, that
her two maids, on their return to the house, escaped the bitter
reprimand which she had been previously conning over, in reward for
their alleged slatternly negligence. Nay, so far did she carry her
complaisance, that when Tyrrel crossed the kitchen to recover his
saddle-bags, she formally rebuked Eppie for an idle taupie, for not
carrying the gentleman's things to his room.

"I thank you, mistress," said Tyrrel; "but I have some drawings and
colours in these saddle-bags, and I always like to carry them myself."

"Ay, and are you at the painting trade yet?" said Meg; "an unco slaister
ye used to make with it lang syne."

"I cannot live without it," said Tyrrel; and taking the saddle-bags, was
formally inducted by the maid into a snug apartment, where he soon had
the satisfaction to behold a capital dish of minced collops, with
vegetables, and a jug of excellent ale, placed on the table by the
careful hand of Meg herself. He could do no less, in acknowledgment of
the honour, than ask Meg for a bottle of the yellow seal, "if there was
any of that excellent claret still left."

"Left?--ay is there, walth of it," said Meg; "I dinna gie it to every
body--Ah! Maister Tirl, ye have not got ower your auld tricks!--I am
sure, if ye are painting for your leeving, as you say, a little rum and
water would come cheaper, and do ye as much good. But ye maun hae your
ain way the day, nae doubt, if ye should never have it again."

Away trudged Meg, her keys clattering as she went, and, after much
rummaging, returned with such a