Dymock and Shanty no sooner heard the voice of the boy, than they both recognized him, and stepping forward, they went up to the carriage and offered to assist the old gentleman to alight; he received their civilities with very little courtesy.  However, he got out of the carriage, and giving himself a shake, and a sort of twist, which caused the lappets of his coat to expand, like the fan-tail of a pigeon, he asked, if the place was Dymock’s Moor, and if the old man he saw before him, was one called Shanty of the Moor?  The blacksmith declared himself to be that same person, “and this gentlemen,” he added, pointing to Dymock, whose every day dress, by the bye, did not savor much of the Laird, “This gentleman is Dymock himself.”

“Ah, is it so,” said the stranger, “my business then is with him, show me where I can converse with him.”

“I have no parlour to offer you,” said Shanty; “to my shed, however, such as it is, I make you welcome.”

No gracious notice was taken by the stranger of the offer, but without preamble or ceremony, he told his errand to Mr. Dymock.  “I hear,” he said, “that you wish to sell your Tower, and the lands which surround it; if after looking at it, and finding that it suits me, you will agree to let me have it, I will pay you down in moneys, to the just and due amount of the value thereof, but first I must see it.”

“It stands there, Sir,” said Shanty, seeing that Mr. Dymock’s heart was too full to permit him to speak; “it stands there, Sir, and is as noble an object as my eye ever fell upon.  The Tower,” continued the old man, “at this minute, lies directly under the only dark cloud now in the heavens; nevertheless, a slanting ray from the westering sun now falls on its highest turret; look on, Sir, and say wherever have you seen a grander object?”

The old gentleman uttered an impatient pish, and said, “Old man, your travels must needs have lain in small compass, if you think much of yon heap of stones and rubbish.”  The Laird’s choler was rising, and he would infallibly have told the stranger to have walked himself off, if Shanty had not pulled him by the sleeve, and, stepping before the stranger, said something in a soothing way, which should enhance the dignity of the Tower and encourage the pretended purchaser.

“I must see it, I must see it,” returned the old gentleman, “not as now mixed up with the clouds, but I must examine it, see its capabilities, and know precisely what it is worth, and how it can be secured to me and my heirs for ever.”

It was warm work which poor Shanty now had to do; between the irritated seller and the testy buyer, he had never been in a hotter place before his own forge, and there was wind enough stirring in all reason, without help of bellows, for the Laird puffed and groaned and uttered half sentences, and wished himself dead, on one side of the old blacksmith, whilst the stranger went on as calmly, coolly, and deliberately, with his bargain, on the other side, as if he were dealing with creatures utterly without feeling.  Shanty turned first to one, and then to another; nodding and winking to Dymock to keep quiet on one side, whilst he continued to vaunt the merits of the purchase on the other.