At length, after one or two impatient glances at the
progress of the minute-hand of the clock, having compared
it with his own watch, a huge and antique gold repeater,
and having twitched about his features to give due
emphasis to one or two peevish pshaws, he hailed the
old lady of the cavern.
“Good woman,—what the d—l
is her name?—Mrs. Macleuchar!”
Mrs. Macleuchar, aware that she had a defensive part
to sustain in the encounter which was to follow, was
in no hurry to hasten the discussion by returning
a ready answer.
“Mrs. Macleuchar,—Good woman”
(with an elevated voice)—then apart, “Old
doited hag, she’s as deaf as a post—I
say, Mrs. Macleuchar!”
“I am just serving a customer.—Indeed,
hinny, it will no be a bodle cheaper than I tell ye.”
“Woman,” reiterated the traveller, “do
you think we can stand here all day till you have
cheated that poor servant wench out of her half-year’s
fee and bountith?”
“Cheated!” retorted Mrs. Macleuchar, eager
to take up the quarrel upon a defensible ground; “I
scorn your words, sir: you are an uncivil person,
and I desire you will not stand there, to slander me
at my ain stair-head.”
“The woman,” said the senior, looking
with an arch glance at his destined travelling companion,
“does not understand the words of action.—Woman,”
again turning to the vault, “I arraign not thy
character, but I desire to know what is become of
thy coach?”
“What’s your wull?” answered Mrs.
Macleuchar, relapsing into deafness.
“We have taken places, ma’am,” said
the younger stranger, “in your diligence for
Queensferry”——“Which
should have been half-way on the road before now,”
continued the elder and more impatient traveller,
rising in wrath as he spoke: “and now in
all likelihood we shall miss the tide, and I have
business of importance on the other side—and
your cursed coach”—
“The coach?—Gude guide us, gentlemen,
is it no on the stand yet?” answered the old
lady, her shrill tone of expostulation sinking into
a kind of apologetic whine. “Is it the
coach ye hae been waiting for?”
“What else could have kept us broiling in the
sun by the side of the gutter here, you—you
faithless woman, eh?”
Mrs. Macleuchar now ascended her trap stair (for such
it might be called, though constructed of stone),
until her nose came upon a level with the pavement;
then, after wiping her spectacles to look for that
which she well knew was not to be found, she exclaimed,
with well-feigned astonishment, “Gude guide
us—saw ever onybody the like o’ that?”
“Yes, you abominable woman,” vociferated
the traveller, “many have seen the like of it,
and all will see the like of it that have anything
to do with your trolloping sex;” then pacing
with great indignation before the door of the shop,
still as he passed and repassed, like a vessel who
gives her broadside as she comes abreast of a hostile
fortress, he shot down complaints, threats, and reproaches,
on the embarrassed Mrs. Macleuchar. He would
take a post-chaise—he would call a hackney
coach —he would take four horses—he
must—he would be on the north side, to-day—and
all the expense of his journey, besides damages, direct
and consequential, arising from delay, should be accumulated
on the devoted head of Mrs. Macleuchar.
