She neither looked at her nor noticed her, but sat in profound silence, not, however, without a distracted mind and breaking heart.
On the next day the squire took a fancy to look at the state of his garden, and, having got his hat and cane, he sallied out to observe how matters were going on, now that Mr.Malcomson had got an assistant, whom, by the way, he had not yet seen.
"Now, Malcomson," said he, "as you have found an assistant, I hope you will soon bring my garden into decent trim.

What kind of a chap is he, and how did you come by him ?" "Saul, your honor," replied Malcomson, "he's a divilish clever chiel, and vara weel acquent wi' our noble profession." "Confound yourself and your noble profession! I think every Scotch gardener of you believes himself a gentleman, simply because he can nail a few stripes of old blanket against a wall.

How did you come by this fellow, I say ?" "Ou, just through Lanigan, the cook, your honor." "Did Lanigan know him ?" "Hout, no, your honor--it was an act o' charity like." "Ay, ay, Lanigan's a kind-hearted old fool, and that's just like him; but, in the meantime, let me see this chap." "There he is, your honor, trimming, and taking care of that bed of 'love-lies-bleeding.'" "Ay, ay; I dare say my daughter set him to that task." "Na, na, sir.

The young leddy hasna seen him yet, nor hasna been in the gerden for the last week." "Why, confound it, Malcomson, that fellow's more like a beggarman than a gardener." "Saul, but he's a capital hand for a' that.

Your honor's no' to tak the beuk by the cover.