Eh! he's an awfu' reprobate is him that's dear to ye.

Miss, in the bedchamber there, will nae doot be the one he's jilted for _you ?_ I see it all--ye can't blind Me--I ha' been a frail person my ain self, in my time.

Hech! he's safe and sound, is the reprobate.

I ha' lookit after a' his little creature-comforts--I'm joost a fether to him, as well as a fether to you.

Trust Bishopriggs--when puir human nature wants a bit pat on the back, trust Bishopriggs." While the sage was speaking these comfortable words, Anne was reading the lines traced on the paper.