"Better never was malted," said Milnwood; "I can hardly say sae muckle for the claret. It's thin and cauld, gentlemen."
"Brandy will cure that," said a third fellow; "a glass of brandy to three glasses of wine prevents the curmurring in the stomach."
"Brandy, ale, wine, sack, and claret,— we'll try them all," said Bothwell," and stick to that which is best. There's good sense in that, if the damn'dest whig in Scotland had said it."
Hastily, yet with a reluctant quiver of his muscles, Milnwood lugged out two ponderous keys, and delivered them to the governante.
"The housekeeper," said Bothwell, taking a seat and throwing himself upon it, "is neither so young nor so bonny as to tempt a man to follow her to the gauntrees, and devil a one here is there worth sending in her place.— What's this?—
