holes, in his dowcot of a closet in the burgh; and therein is
baith charter and sasine, and special service to boot; and that will be
chapter and verse, speer when ye list."

"I had quite forgotten," said Tyrrel, "that the inn was your own; though
I remember you were a considerable landed proprietor."

"Maybe I am," replied Meg, "maybe I am not: and if I be, what for
no?--But as to what the Laird, whose grandfather was my father's
landlord, said to the new doings yonder--he just jumped at the ready
penny, like a cock at a grosert, and feu'd the bonny holm beside the
Well, that they ca'd the Saint-Well-holm, that was like the best land in
his aught, to be carved, and biggit, and howkit up, just at the pleasure
of Jock Ashler the stane-mason, that ca's himsell an arkiteck--there's
nae living for new words in this new warld neither, and that is another
vex to auld folk such as me.--It's a shame o' the young Laird, to let
his auld patrimony gang the gate it's like to gang, and my heart is sair
to see't, though it has but little cause to care what comes of him or
his."

"Is it the same Mr. Mowbray," said Mr. Tyrrel, "who still holds the
estate?--the old gentleman, you know, whom I had some dispute with"----

"About hunting moorfowl upon the Spring-well-head muirs?" said Meg. "Ah,
lad! honest Mr. Bindloose brought you neatly off there--Na, it's no that
honest man, but his son John Mowbray--the t'other has slept down-by in
Saint Ronan's Kirk for these six or seven years."

"Did he leave," asked Tyrrel, with something of a faltering voice, "no
other child than the present Laird?"

"No other son," said Meg; "and there's e'en eneugh, unless he could have
left a better ane."

"He died then," said Tyrrel, "excepting this son, without children?"

"By your leave, no," said Meg; "there is the lassie Miss Clara, that
keeps house for the Laird, if it can be ca'd keeping house, for he is
almost aye down at the Well yonder--so a sma' kitchen serves them at the
Shaws."

"Miss Clara will have but a dull time of it there during her brother's
absence?" said the stranger.

"Out no!--he has her aften jinketing about, and back and forward, wi' a'
the fine flichtering fools that come yonder; and clapping palms wi'
them, and linking at their dances and daffings. I wuss nae ill come o't,
but it's a shame her father's daughter should keep company wi' a' that
scauff and raff of physic-students, and writers' prentices, and bagmen,
and sicl