But we'll sune set that richt .-- Hoo far hae ye come, mem, gien I may speir?
Aigh, mem, its an unco nicht!" The lady did not understand much of what Aggie said, for she was English, returning from her first visit to Scotland, but, half guessing at her question, replied, that they had come from Cairntod, and were going on to Howglen.

She told her also, now entirely reassured by Aggie's voice, that they had been much longer on the way than they had expected, and were now getting anxious.
"I doobt sair gien ye'll win to Howglen the nicht," said Aggie .-- "But ye're not yer lone?
"she added, trying to summon her English, of which she had plenty of a sort, though not always at hand.
"My father is with me," said the lady, looking back into the dark carriage, "but I think he is asleep, and I don't want to wake him while we are standing still." Peeping in, Aggie caught sight of somebody muffled, leaning back in the other corner of the carriage, and breathing heavily.
To Aggie's not altogether unaccustomed eye, it seemed he might have had more than was good for him in the way of refreshment.
Cosmo was busy clearing the snow from the horses' hoofs.

The driver, stupid or dazed, sat on the box, helpless as a parrot on a swinging perch.
"You'll never win to Howglen to-night, mem," said Aggie.
"We must put up where we can, then," answered the lady.
"I dinna know of a place nearer, fit for gentlefowk, mem." "What are we to do then ?" asked the lady, with subdued, but evident anxiety.
"What's the guid o' haein' a father like that--sleepin' and snorin' whan maist ye're in want o' 'im!" thought Aggie to herself; but what she replied was, "Bide, mem, till we hear what Cosmo has to say til't." "That is a peculiar name!" remarked the lady, brightening at the sound of it, for it could, she thought, hardly belong to a peasant.
"It's the name the lairds o' Glenwarlock hae borne for generations," answered Aggie; "though doobtless it's no a name, as the maister wad say, indigenous to the country.

Ane o' them broucht it frae Italy, the place whaur the Pop' o' Rom' bides." "And who is this Cosmo whose advice you would have me ask ?" "He's the yoong laird himsel', mem:--eh! but ye maun be a stranger no to ken the name o' Warlock." "Indeed I am a stranger--and I can't help wishing, if there is much more of this weather between us and England, that I had been more of a stranger still." "'Deed, mem, we hae a heap o' weather up here as like this as ae snow-flake is til anither.

But we tak what's sent, an' makna mony remarks.