er body when that Valentine was in the house.--And how is your cousin
Valentine Bulmer, Maister Francie?"

Tyrrel looked down, and only answered with a sigh.

"Ay--and is it even sae?" said Meg; "and has the puir bairn been sae
soon removed frae this fashious warld?--Ay--ay--we maun a' gang ae
gate--crackit quart stoups and geisen'd barrels--leaky quaighs are we
a', and canna keep in the liquor of life--Ohon, sirs!--Was the puir lad
Bulmer frae Bu'mer bay, where they land the Hollands, think ye, Maister
Francie?--They whiles rin in a pickle tea there too--I hope that is good
that I have made you, Maister Francie?"

"Excellent, my good dame," said Tyrrel; but it was in a tone of voice
which intimated that she had pressed upon a subject that awakened some
unpleasant reflections.

"And when did this puir lad die?" continued Meg, who was not without her
share of Eve's qualities, and wished to know something concerning what
seemed to affect her guest so particularly; but he disappointed her
purpose, and at the same time awakened another train of sentiment in her
mind, by turning again to the window, and looking upon the distant
buildings of Saint Ronan's Well. As if he had observed for the first
time these new objects, he said to Mistress Dods in an indifferent tone,
"You have got some gay new neighbours yonder, mistress."

"Neighbours!" said Meg, her wrath beginning to arise, as it always did
upon any allusion to this sore subject--"Ye may ca' them neighbours, if
ye like--but the deil flee awa wi' the neighbourhood for Meg Dods!"

"I suppose," said Tyrrel, as if he did not observe her displeasure,
"that yonder is the Fox Hotel they told me of?"

"The Fox!" said Meg: "I am sure it is the fox that has carried off a' my
geese.--I might shut up house, Maister Francie, if it was the thing I
lived by--me, that has seen a' our gentlefolk bairns, and gien them
snaps and sugar-biscuit maist of them wi' my ain hand! They wad hae seen
my father's roof-tree fa' down and smoor me before they wad hae gien a
boddle a-piece to have propped it up--but they could a' link out their
fifty pounds ower head to bigg a hottle at the Well yonder. And muckle
they hae made o't--the bankrupt body, Sandie Lawson, hasna paid them a
bawbee of four terms' rent."

"Surely, mistress, I think if the Well became so famous for its cures,
the least the gentlemen could have done was to make you the priestess."

"Me priestess! I am nae Quaker, I wot, Mai