ought to have followed his example in preferring beer to wine.
"Well," said Bothwell, "have ye all drank the toast?—What is that old wife about? Give her a glass of brandy, she shall drink the king's health, by"———
"If your honour pleases," said Cuddie, with great stolidity of aspect, "this is my mother, stir; and she's as deaf as Corralinn; we canna make her hear day nor door; but, if your honour pleases, I am ready to drink the king's health for her in as mony glasses of brandy as ye think necessary.
"I dare swear you are," answered Bothwell, "you look like a fellow that would stick to brandy—help thyself, man; all's free where'er I come.—Tom, help the maid to a comfortable cup, though she's but a dirty jilt neither. Fill round once more—Here's to our noble commander, Colonel Graham of Claverhouse!—What the devil is the old woman groaning for? She looks as very a whig as ever sate on a hill side.
