"Even so, Frank," answered Vincent; "just as the poet sings sweetly,--

'In Scotland he was born and bred,
And, though a beggar, must be fed.'"

"Hush!" said Tunstall, "remember our master."

"Pshaw!" answered his mercurial companion; "he knows on which side his
bread is buttered, and I warrant you has not lived so long among
Englishmen, and by Englishmen, to quarrel with us for bearing an
English mind. But see, our Scot has done gazing at St. Dunstan's, and
comes our way. By this light, a proper lad and a sturdy, in spite of
freckles and sun-burning.--He comes nearer still, I will have at him."

"And, if you do," said his comrade, "you may get a broken head--he
looks not as if he would carry coals."

"A fig for your threat," said Vincent, and instantly addressed the
stranger. "Buy a watch, most noble northern Thane--buy a watch, to
count the hours of plenty since the blessed moment you left Berwick
behind you.--Buy barnacles, to see the English gold lies ready for
your gripe.--Buy what you will, you shall have credit for three days;
for, were your pockets as bare as Father Fergus's, you are a Scot in
London, and you will be stocked in that time." The stranger looked
sternly at the waggish apprentice, and seemed to grasp his cudgel in
rather a menacing fashion. "Buy physic," said the undaunted Vincent,
"if you will buy neither time nor light--physic for a proud stomach,
sir;--there is a 'pothecary's shop on the other side of the way."