"
"Where does your master lodge?"
"We pit up, an it like your honour," replied the Scot, "in a sma'
house at the fit of ane of the wynds that gang down to the water-side,
with a decent man, John Christie, a ship-chandler, as they ca't. His
father came from Dundee. I wotna the name of the wynd, but it's right
anent the mickle kirk yonder; and your honour will mind, that we pass
only by our family-name of simple Mr. Nigel Olifaunt, as keeping
ourselves retired for the present, though in Scotland we be called the
Lord Nigel."
"It is wisely done of your master," said the citizen. "I will find out
your lodgings, though your direction be none of the clearest." So
saying, and slipping a piece of money at the same time into Richie
Moniplies's hand, he bade him hasten home, and get into no more
affrays.
"I will take care of that now, sir," said Richie, with a look of
importance, "having a charge about me. And so, wussing ye a' weel,
with special thanks to these twa young gentlemen----"
"I am no gentleman," said Jenkin, flinging his cap on his head; "I am
a tight London 'prentice, and hope to be a freeman one day. Frank may
write himself gentleman, if he will."
"I _was_ a gentleman once," said Tunstall, "and I hope I have done
nothing to lose the name of one."
"Weel, weel, as ye list," said Richie Moniplies; "but I am mickle
beholden to ye baith--and I am not a hair the less like to bear it in
mind that I say but little about it just now.
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