Fiction > Book editions > London, 1886 - Kidnapped

WE   PASS   THE   FORTH.                            269
disinherited great lady.    "No," says she, "that's true
indeed."
I was all this while chafing at the part I played, and
sitting tongue-tied between shame and merriment; but
somehow at this I could hold in no longer, and bade
Alan let me be, for I was better already. My voice
stuck in my throat, for I ever hated to take part in lies;
but my very embarrassment helped on the plot, for the
lass no doubt set down my husky voice to sickness and
fatigue.
"Has he nae friends?" said she, in a tearful
voice.
"That has he so!" cried Alan, "if we could but
win to them!�friends and rich friends, beds to lie in,
food to eat, doctors to see to him�and here he must
tramp in the dubs and sleep in the heather like a
beggarman."
"And why that? " says the lass.
"My dear," says Alan, "I cannae very safely say;
but I'll tell ye what I'll do instead," says he, "I'll
whistle ye a bit tune." And with that he leaned pretty
far over the table, and in a mere breath of a whistle,
but with a wonderful pretty sentiment, gave her a few
bars of "Charlie is my darling."
"Wheesht," says she, and looked over her shoulder
to the door.
"That's it," said Alan.
"And him so young!" cries the lass.
"He's   old   enough   to------"   and  Alan  struck his