was any likelihood of siller to be made of it, but if there was nane, I am clearly of opinion they would let him gang where he pleased, and be damned to him!”
“Ay, but I’m no very caring about that either,” said my uncle. “I wouldnae be muckle made up with that.”
“I was thinking that,” said Alan.
“And what for why?” asked Ebenezer.
“Why, Mr. Balfour,” replied Alan, “by all that I could hear, there were two ways of it: either ye liked David and would pay to get him back; or else ye had very good reasons for not wanting him, and would pay for us to keep him. It seems it’s not the first; well then, it’s the second; and blythe am I to ken it, for it should be a pretty penny in my pocket and the pockets of my friends.”
“I dinnae follow ye there,” said my uncle.
“No?” said Alan. “Well, see here: you dinnae want the lad back; well, what do ye want done with him, and how much will ye pay?”
My uncle made no answer, but shifted uneasily on his seat.
“Come, sir,” cried Alan. “I would have ye to ken that I am a gentleman; I bear a king’s name; I am nae rider to kick my shanks at your hall door. Either give me an answer in civility, and that out of hand; or by the top of Glencoe, I will ram three feet of iron through your vitals.”
