She stooped over the hearth and casting fresh peats upon it said: "And what’s yer pleesure, gentlemen?"
"A bottle o’ Blednoch, Luckie, a wheen soda scones and a whang o’ cheese; and dinna forget the butter--we’re fair famished," answered Jock, his words jostling each other. Our hostess brought a small table and set it before us, and we sat down. Very speedily, for one so old, Luckie brought our refreshment, and Thomson, seizing the black bottle, poured himself out a stiff glass, which he drank at a gulp. I helped myself to a moderate dram and set the bottle on the table between us. Thomson seized it at once and replenished his glass, and then said as he passed the bottle to the old woman:
"Will ye no tak’ a drap, Luckie, for the guid o’ the hoose?"
She shuffled to the dresser and came back with a glass which she filled.
"A toast," said Thomson. "The King, God bless him," and we stood up, and drank. The potent spirit burned my mouth like liquid fire, but my companions seemed to relish it as they drank deeply. I had no desire to dull my wits with strong drink, so, as I helped myself to a scone and a piece of cheese, I asked Luckie if she could let me have a little water.
"Watter!" cried Thomson. "Whit the deevil d’ye want wi’ watter? Surely you’re no’ gaun to rot your inside wi’ sic’ feckless trash."
"No," I said, "I just want to let down the whisky."
"Whit!" he shouted, "spile guid Blednoch wi’ pump watter!--it’s a desecration, a fair abomination in the sicht o’ the Lord. I thought frae yer brogue ye were an Englishman. This proves it; nae stammick for guid drink; nae heid for theology. Puir deevil!"--and he shook his head pityingly.
I laughed as I watched my insatiable companion once more empty his glass and refill it.
"An’ whit are ye daein’ on the road sae late the nicht, young man?" said Luckie, suddenly. "Lag’s men are usually bedded long afore noo. Are ye after the deserter tae, like the twa dragoons that were here a bittock syne?"
I had made up my mind that my flight and identity would best be concealed by an appearance of ingenuous candour, so I replied without hesitation:
"Yes, I am. He has not been here to-night, has he?"
"Certes, no," exclaimed the old woman. "This is a law-abiding hoose and I wad shelter neither Covenanter nor renegade King’s man."