"The like to yourself, Mr. David," she replied with a deep courtesy. "And I beg to remind you of an old musty saw, that meat and mass never hindered man. The mass I cannot afford you, for we are all good Protestants. But the meat I press on your attention. And I would not wonder but I could find something for your private ear that would be worth the stopping for."
"Mistress Grant," said I, "I believe I am already your debtor for some merry words—and I think they were kind too—on a piece of unsigned paper."
"Unsigned paper?" says she, and made a droll face, which was likewise wondrous beautiful, as of one trying to remember.
"Or else I am the more deceived," I went on. "But to be sure, we shall have the time to speak of these, since your father is so good as to make me for a while your inmate; and the gomeral begs you at this time only for the favour of his liberty."
"You give yourself hard names," said she.
"Mr. Doig and I would be blythe to take harder at your clever pen," says I.
"Once more I have to admire the discretion of all men-folk," she replied. "But if you will not eat, off with you at once; you will be back the sooner, for you go on a fool's errand. Off with you, Mr. David," she continued, opening the door.
He rade the richt gate and the ready;
I trow he would neither stint nor stay,
For he was seeking his bonny leddy."
