Page:Waverley Novels, vol. 22 (1831).djvu/205



“ we far from the dwelling of this smith, my pretty lad?” said Tressilian to his young guide.

“How is it you call me?” said the boy, looking askew at him with his sharp grey eyes.

“I call you my pretty lad—is there any offence in that, my boy?”

“No—but were you with my grandam and Dominie Holiday, you might sing chorus to the old song of;

“And why so, my little man?” said Tressilian.

“Because,” answered the ugly urchin, “you are the only three ever called me pretty lad—Now my grandam does it because she is parcel blind by age, and whole blind by kindred—and my master, the poor Dominie, does it to curry favour, and have the fullest platter of furmity, and the warmest seat by