I therefore abandoned him to his ill-humour, and gave myself no further trouble about the matter.
Such was the footing upon which I stood with the family at Osbaldistone Hall; but I ought to mention another of its inmates with whom I occasionally held some discourse.

This was Andrew Fairservice, the gardener who (since he had discovered that I was a Protestant) rarely suffered me to pass him without proffering his Scotch mull for a social pinch.

There were several advantages attending this courtesy.

In the first place, it was made at no expense, for I never took snuff; and secondly, it afforded an excellent apology to Andrew (who was not particularly fond of hard labour) for laying aside his spade for several minutes.

But, above all, these brief interviews gave Andrew an opportunity of venting the news he had collected, or the satirical remarks which his shrewd northern humour suggested.
"I am saying, sir," he said to me one evening, with a face obviously charged with intelligence, "I hae been down at the Trinlay-knowe." "Well, Andrew, and I suppose you heard some news at the alehouse ?" "Na, sir; I never gang to the yillhouse--that is unless ony neighbour was to gie me a pint, or the like o' that; but to gang there on ane's ain coat-tail, is a waste o' precious time and hard-won siller .-- But I was doun at the Trinlay-knowe, as I was saying, about a wee bit business o' my ain wi' Mattie Simpson, that wants a forpit or twa o' peers that will never be missed in the Ha'-house--and when we were at the thrangest o' our bargain, wha suld come in but Pate Macready the travelling merchant ?" "Pedlar, I suppose you mean ?" "E'en as your honour likes to ca' him; but it's a creditable calling and a gainfu', and has been lang in use wi' our folk.