"Pray what do you here? Or
what are you pleased to laugh at? I desire you to go about your
business, and send me up Handyside. I want him to bring me
something to drink."
"Ye sanna want a drink, maister," said the fellow. "Tak a hearty
ane, and see if it will wauken ye up something, sae that ye dinna
ca' for ghaists through your sleep. Surely ye haena forgotten that
Andrew Handyside has been in his grave these six months?"
This was a stunning blow to me. I could not answer further, but
sunk back on my pillow as if I had been a lump of lead, refusing
to take a drink or anything else at the fellow's hand, who seemed
thus mocking me with so grave a face. The man seemed sorry,
and grieved at my being offended, but I ordered him away, and
continued sullen and thoughtful. Could I have again been for a
season in utter oblivion to myself. and transacting business which
I neither approved of nor had any connection with! I tried to
recollect something in which I might have been engaged, but
nothing was portrayed on my mind subsequent to the parting with
my friends at a late hour the evening before. The evening before
it certainly was: but, if so, how came it that Andrew Handyside,
who served at table that evening, should have been in his grave
six months! This was a circumstance somewhat equivocal;
therefore, being afraid to arise lest accusations of I know not what
might come against me, I was obliged to call once more in order
to come at what intelligence I could.
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