Perhaps at this hour they kneel as I do; they take the hand of her who might conceal and assist them; they press it to their lips as I do--' 'Here, here!' cried the old lady, breaking from my solicitations.
'Behave yourself before folk! Saw ever anyone the match of that?
And on earth, my dears, what are we to do with him ?' 'Pack him off, my dear lady,' said I: 'pack off the impudent fellow double-quick! And if it may be, and if your good heart allows it, help him a little on the way he has to go.' 'What's this pie ?' she cried stridently.

'Where is this pie from, Flora ?' No answer was vouchsafed by my unfortunate and (I may say) extinct accomplices.
'Is that my port ?' she pursued.

'Hough! Will somebody give me a glass of my port wine ?' I made haste to serve her.
She looked at me over the rim with an extraordinary expression.

'I hope ye liked it ?' said she.
'It is even a magnificent wine,' said I.
'Aweel, it was my father laid it down,' said she.

'There were few knew more about port wine than my father, God rest him!' She settled herself in a chair with an alarming air of resolution.