No time was to be lost, and Grisell
at once began work on her father's wardrobe, and in the coming days and
nights, with anxious fingers, made such alterations in his clothing as
seemed necessary for a disguise.
Meantime a friend and neighbour of Sir Patrick's, John Home of
Halyburton, had "jaloused" that his namesake was not hidden so far
afield as some imagined, and when, one cold January afternoon, he heard
the clatter of hoofs on the high-road and saw the red coats of the
dragoons, he had a stab at his heart at the thought of another good son
of the Merse going to martyrdom.
"Where do you ride to-day?" he asked, when the party came up.
"To take Polwarth at Redbraes," they said.
"Is it so?" said Home. "Then I'll go with you myself and be your guide.
But come your ways into the house and rest you a little, till I get
ready for the road."
Nothing loth, the troopers followed him, and were still contentedly
testing the quality of the contents of his big case-bottles when a groom
galloped off to Redbraes. Halyburton's message to Lady Home of Polwarth
was a brief one, for when she opened his envelope there was nothing
there to read--only a little feather fluttered out, giving as plainly
the advice to instant flight as pages of words might have done.
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