"He's in the tolbooth, mother—he's in the heart of Mid-Lowden for a thousand merk he borrowed from Saunders Wyliecoat the writer."
"Poor man!" exclaimed Mrs Elliot, "can we no send him something, Hobbie?"
"Ye forget, grannie, ye forget we want help oursels," said Hobbie, somewhat peevishly.
"Troth did I, hinny," replied the good-natured lady, "just at the instant; it's sae natural to think o' ane's blude relations before themsels. But there's young Earnscliff."
"He has ower little o' his ain; and siccan a name to keep up, it wad be a shame," said Hobbie, "to burden him wi' our distress. And I'll tell ye, grannie, it's needless to sit rhyming ower the stile of a your kith, kin, and allies, as if there was a charm in their braw names to do us good; the grandees hae forgotten us, and those of our ain degree hae just little
