said she , in a tearful voice . `` That has he so ! '' cried Alan , `` if we could but win to them ! -- friends and rich friends , beds to lie in , food to eat , doctors to see to him -- and here he must tramp in the dubs and sleep in the heather like a beggarman . '' `` And why that ? '' says the lass . `` My dear , '' said Alan , `` I cannae very safely say ; but I 'll tell ye what I 'll do instead , '' says he , `` I 'll whistle ye a bit tune . '' And with that he leaned pretty far over the table , and in a mere breath of a whistle , but with a wonderful pretty sentiment , gave her a few bars of `` Charlie is my darling . '' `` Wheesht , '' says she , and looked over her shoulder to the door . `` That 's it , '' said Alan . `` And him so young ! '' cries the lass . `` He 's old enough to -- '' and Alan struck his forefinger on the back part of his neck , meaning that I was old enough to lose my head . `` It would be a black shame , '' she cried , flushing high . `` It 's what will be , though , '' said Alan , `` unless we manage the better . '' At this the lass turned and ran out of that part of the house , leaving us alone together . Alan in high good humour at the furthering of his schemes , and I in bitter dudgeon at being called a Jacobite and treated like a child . `` Alan , '' I cried , `` I can stand no more of this . '' `` Ye 'll have to sit it then , Davie , '' said he . `` For if ye upset the pot now , ye may scrape your own life out of the fire , but Alan Breck is a dead man . ''
This was so true that I could only groan ; and even my groan served XXXXX 's purpose , for it was overheard by the lass as she came flying in again with a dish of white puddings and a bottle of strong ale .
Alan Breck Davie Jacobite Wheesht beggarman dudgeon fire shame table