It looks unco underhand," says Andie.
"And werenae the folk guid sound Whigs and true-blue Presbyterians
I would has seen them ayont Jordan and Jeroozlem or I would have
set hand to it."
"The Master of Lovat'll be a braw Whig," says I, "and a grand
Presbyterian."
"I ken naething by him," said he. "I hae nae trokings wi' Lovats."
"No, it'll be Prestongrange that you'll be dealing with," said I.
"Ah, but I'll no tell ye that," said Andie.
"Little need when I ken," was my retort.
"There's just the ae thing ye can be fairly sure of, Shaws," says
Andie. "And that is that (try as ye please) I'm no dealing wi'
yoursel'; nor yet I amnae goin' to," he added.
"Well, Andie, I see I'll have to be speak out plain with you," I
replied. And told him so much as I thought needful of the facts.
He heard me out with some serious interest, and when I had done,
seemed to consider a little with himself.
"Shaws," said he at last, "I'll deal with the naked hand. It's a
queer tale, and no very creditable, the way you tell it; and I'm
far frae minting that is other than the way that ye believe it.
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