"Will ye no bide," said Janet, in a most hospitable tone, "an' tak'
a het pitawta wi' us?"

"I'm afraid of being troublesome," answered he.

"Nae fear o' that, gin ye can jist pit up wi' oor hamely meat."

"Mak nae apologies, Janet, my woman," said David. "A het pitawta's
aye guid fare, for gentle or semple. Sit ye doun again, Maister
Sutherlan'. Maggy, my doo, whaur's the milk?"

"I thocht Hawkie wad hae a drappy o' het milk by this time," said
Margaret, "and sae I jist loot it be to the last; but I'll hae't
drawn in twa minutes." And away she went with a jug, commonly
called a decanter in that part of the north, in her hand.

"That's hardly fair play to Hawkie," said David to Janet with a
smile.

"Hoot! Dawvid, ye see we haena a stranger ilka nicht."

"But really," said Hugh, "I hope this is the last time you will
consider me a stranger, for I shall be here a great many times--that
is, if you don't get tired of me."

"Gie us the chance at least, Maister Sutherlan'. It's no sma'
preevilege to fowk like us to hae a frien' wi' sae muckle buik
learnin' as ye hae, sir."