[_The five walk into the parlour--CHRISTY preparing to follow, carrying
whiskey bottle and, jug--turns back, and says to BIDDY,_

Is it dumb they are all? or _innocents_?

_Biddy._ Not at all innocents, no more than myself nor yourself. Nor dumb
neither, only that the Scotch tongue can't spake English as we do.

_Christy._ Oh! if that's all, after dinner the whiskey punch will make 'em
spake, I'll engage.

[_Exit CHRISTY._

_Biddy._ 'Tis I that am glad they've taken themselves away, for there's no
cooking with all the men in the fire.

_Enter Mr. ANDREW HOPE, Drum-major._

_Mr. H._ A gude day to you, my gude lassy.

_Biddy._ The same to you, sir, and kindly. I beg your pardon for not
knowing--would it be the drum-major, sir?

_Mr. H._ No offence, my gude lass; I am Andrew Hope, and drum-major. I met
some of my men in the street coming down, and they told me they could not
have beds here.

_Biddy._ No, sir, plase your honour, only five that's in the room yonder:
if you'd be plased to walk up, and you'll get your dinner immediately, your
honour, as fast as can be dished, your honour.