A sore fall it is, for a Hume of Polwarth; and strangely enough do the French scribes write my name--'Hauves Poulvoir,' and otherwise, so please you; but that is ever their wont with the best names in all broad Scotland.

Lo you, even now there is much ado with banner- painting for the companies that march to help Orleans, ever and again." "When the Maiden marches, father, you shall have banner-painting," said the girl.
"Ay, lass, when the Maid marches, and when the lift falls and smoors the laverocks we shall catch them in plenty.

{8} But, Maid or no Maid, saving your presence, sir, I need what we craftsmen (I pray you again to pardon me) call an apprentice, and I offer you, if you are skilled as you say, this honourable post, till you find a better." My face grew red again with anger at the word "apprentice," and I know not how I should have answered an offer so unworthy of my blood, when the girl broke in-- "Till this gentleman marches with the flower of France against our old enemy of England, you should say, father, and helps to show them another Bannockburn on Loire-side." "Ay, well, till then, if it likes you," he said, smiling.

"Till then there is bed, and meat, and the penny fee for him, till that great day." "That is coming soon!" she cried, her eyes raised to heaven, and so fair she looked, that, being a young man and of my complexion amorous, I could not bear to be out of her company when I might be in it, so stooped my pride to agree with him.
"Sir," I said, "I thank you heartily for your offer.

You come of as good a house as mine, and yours is the brag of the Border, as mine is of the kingdom of Fife.