"Good evening, Mother," said the traveller. "Your name is Mistress
Maclure?"
"Elizabeth Maclure, sir, a poor widow," was the reply.
"Can you lodge a stranger for a night?"
"I can, sir, if he will be pleased with the widow's cake and the widow's
cruse."
"I have been a soldier, good dame," answered Morton, "and nothing can
come amiss to me in the way of entertainment."
"A sodger, sir?" said the old woman, with a sigh,--"God send ye a better
trade!"
"It is believed to be an honourable profession, my good dame; I hope you
do not think the worse of me for having belonged to it?"
"I judge no one, sir," replied the woman, "and your voice sounds like
that of a civil gentleman; but I hae witnessed sae muckle ill wi'
sodgering in this puir land that I am e'en content that I can see nae
mair o't wi' these sightless organs."
As she spoke thus, Morton observed that she was blind.
"Shall I not be troublesome to you, my good dame?" said he,
compassionately; "your infirmity seems ill calculated for your
profession."
"Na, sir," answered the old woman, "I can gang about the house readily
eneugh; and I hae a bit lassie to help me, and the dragoon lads will look
after your horse when they come hame frae their patrol, for a sma'
matter; they are civiller now than lang syne.
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