Presently a fine figure of a man in Highland costume appears in the
tent-door. He waits awhile, then speaks in the strong Doric of his native
wilds_.)

MR. J. BROWN. Was your Majesty wanting anything, or were you ringing only
for the fun?

(_To this brusque delivery her Majesty responds with a cosy smile, for
the special function of Mr. John Brown is not to be a courtier; and,
knowing what is expected of him, he lives up to it_.)

QUEEN. Bring another chair, Brown. And take Mop with you: he wants his
walk.

MR. J.B. What kind of a chair are you wanting, Ma'am? Is it to put your
feet on?

QUEEN. No, no. It is to put a visitor on. Choose a nice one with a
lean-back.

MR. J.B. With a lean back? Ho! Ye mean one that you can lean back in. What
talk folk will bring with them from up south, to be sure! Yes, I'll get it
for ye, Ma'am. Come, Mop, be a braw little wee mon, and tak' your walk!

(_And while his Royal Mistress resumes her writing, taking Mop by his
"lead" he prepares for departure._)

Have ye seen the paper this morning yet? Ma'am.

(_The address of respect is thrown in by way of afterthought, or, as it