Extremely vexed, yet anxious, on account of his guest, to procure refreshments if possible, Morton suppressed his resentment, and good-humouredly assured Mrs Wilson, that he was really both hungry and thirsty; “and as for the shooting at the popinjay, I have heard you say you have been there yourself, Mrs Wilson--I wish you had come to look at us.”
“Ah, Maister Henry,” said the old dame, “I wish ye binna beginning to learn the way of blawing in a woman’s lug wi’ a’ your whilly-wha’s!-- Aweel, sae ye dinna practise them but on auld wives like me, the less matter. But tak heed o’ the young queans, lad.--Popinjay--ye think yoursell a braw fellow enow; and troth!” (surveying him with the candle,) “there’s nae fault to find wi’ the outside, if the inside be conforming. But I mind, when I was a gilpy of a lassock, seeing the Duke, that was him that lost his head at London--folk said it wasna a very gude ane, but it was aye a sair loss to him, puir gentleman--Aweel, he wan the popinjay, for few cared to win it ower his Grace’s head--weel, he had a comely presence, and when a’ the gentles mounted to show their capers, his Grace was as near to me as I am to you; and he said to me, ‘Tak tent o’ yoursell, my bonny lassie, (these were his very words,) for my horse is not very chancy.’--And now, as ye say ye had sae little to eat or drink, I’ll let you see that I havena been sae unmindfu’ o’ you; for I dinna think it’s safe for young folk to gang to their bed on an empty stamach.”
To do Mrs Wilson justice, her nocturnal harangues upon such occasions not unfrequently terminated with this sage apophthegm, which always prefaced the producing of some provision a little better than ordinary, such as she now placed before him. In fact, the principal object of her maundering was to display her consequence and love of power; for Mrs Wilson was not, at the bottom, an illtempered woman, and certainly loved her old and young master (both of whom she tormented extremely) better than any one else in the world. She now eyed Mr Henry, as she called him, with great complacency, as he partook of her good cheer.
“Muckle gude may it do ye, my bonny man. I trow ye dinna get sic a skirl-in-the-pan as that at Niel Blane’s. His wife was a canny body, and could dress things very weel for ane in her line o’ business, but no like a gentleman’s housekeeper, to be sure. But I doubt the daughter’s a silly thing--an unco cockernony she had busked on her head at the kirk last Sunday. I am doubting that there will be news o’ a’ thae braws. But my auld een’s drawing thegither--dinna hurry yoursell, my bonny man, tak mind about the putting out the candle, and there’s a horn of ale, and a glass of clow-gillie-flower water; I dinna gie ilka body that; I keep it for a pain I hae whiles in my ain stamach, and it’s better for your young blood than brandy. Sae, gude-night to ye, Mr Henry, and see that ye tak gude care o’ the candle.”