Hastily concluding Mr.Maxwell had passed some idle jest on him, or rather that he had mistaken the person to whom he was directed, he asked if he spoke to Mr.Trumbull.
'To Thomas Trumbull,' answered the old man--'What may be your business, sir ?' And he glanced his eye to the book he held in his hand, with a sigh like that of a saint desirous of dissolution.
'Do you know Mr.Maxwell of Summertrees ?' said Fairford.
'I have heard of such a gentleman in the country-side, but have no acquaintance with him,' answered Mr.Trumbull; 'he is, as I have heard, a Papist; for the whore that sitteth on the seven hills ceaseth not yet to pour forth the cup of her abomination on these parts.' 'Yet he directed me hither, my good friend,' said Alan.

'Is there another of your name in this town of Annan ?' 'None,' replied Mr.Trumbull, 'since my worthy father was removed; he was indeed a shining light .-- I wish you good even, sir.' 'Stay one single instant,' said Fairford; 'this is a matter of life and death.' 'Not more than the casting the burden of our sins where they should be laid,' said Thomas Trumbull, about to shut the door in the inquirer's face.
'Do you know,' said Alan Fairford, 'the Laird of Redgauntlet ?' 'Now Heaven defend me from treason and rebellion!' exclaimed Trumbull.
'Young gentleman, you are importunate.

I live here among my own people, and do not consort with Jacobites and mass-mongers.' He seemed about to shut the door, but did NOT shut it, a circumstance which did not escape Alan's notice.
'Mr.Redgauntlet is sometimes,' he said, 'called Herries of Birrenswork; perhaps you may know him under that name.' 'Friend, you are uncivil,' answered Mr.Trumbull; 'honest men have enough to do to keep one name undefiled.

I ken nothing about those who have two.

Good even to you, friend.' He was now about to slam the door in his visitor's face without further ceremony, when Alan, who had observed symptoms that the name of Redgauntlet did not seem altogether so indifferent to him as he pretended, arrested his purpose by saying, in a low voice, 'At least you can tell me what age the moon is ?' The old man started, as if from a trance, and before answering, surveyed the querist with a keen penetrating glance, which seemed to say, 'Are you really in possession of this key to my confidence, or do you speak from mere accident ?' To this keen look of scrutiny, Fairford replied by a smile of intelligence.
The iron muscles of the old man's face did not, however, relax, as he dropped, in a careless manner, the countersign, 'Not light enough to land a cargo.' 'Then plague of all Aberdeen Almanacks!' 'And plague of all fools that waste time,' said Thomas Trumbull, 'Could you not have said as much at first?
And standing wasting time, and encouraging; lookers-on, in the open street too?
Come in by--in by.' He drew his visitor into the dark entrance of the house, and shut the door carefully; then putting his head into an apartment which the murmurs within announced to be filled with the family, he said aloud, 'A work of necessity and mercy--Malachi, take the book--You will sing six double verses of the hundred and nineteen-and you may lecture out of the Lamentations.