“Wasn’t it spirited—in such
poor people too?” said Lady Florimel, the colour
rising in her face, and her eyes sparkling.
“It was damned impudent,” said the marquis.
“I think it was damned dignified,” said
Lady Florimel.
The marquis stared. The visitors, after a momentary
silence, burst into a great laugh.
“I wanted to see,” said Lady Florimel
calmly, “whether I couldn’t swear if I
tried. I don’t think it tastes nice.
I shan’t take to it, I think.”
“You’d better not in my presence, my lady,”
said the marquis, his eyes sparkling with fun.
“I shall certainly not do it out of your presence,
my lord,” she returned. “—Now
I think of it,” she went on, “I know what
I will do: every time you say a bad word in my
presence, I shall say it after you. I shan’t
mind who’s there—parson or magistrate.
Now you’ll see.”
“You will get into the habit of it.”
“Except you get out of the habit of it first,
papa,” said the girl, laughing merrily.
“You confounded little Amazon!” said her
father.
“But what’s to be done about those confounded
pipes?” she resumed. “You can’t
allow such people to serve you so! Return your
presents, indeed! Suppose I undertake the business?”
“By all means. What will you do?”
“Make them take them, of course. It would
be quite horrible never to be quits with the old lunatic.”
“As you please, puss.”
“Then you put yourself in my hands, papa?”
“Yes; only you must mind what you’re about,
you know.”
“That I will, and make them mind too,”
she answered, and the subject was dropped.
Lady Florimel counted upon her influence with Malcolm,
and his again with his grandfather; but careful of
her dignity, she would not make direct advances; she
would wait an opportunity of speaking to him.
But, although she visited the sand hill almost every
morning, an opportunity was not afforded her.
Meanwhile, the state of Duncan’s bag and of
Malcolm’s hand forbidding, neither pipes were
played nor gun was fired to arouse marquis or burgess.
When a fortnight had thus passed, Lady Florimel grew
anxious concerning the justification of her boast,
and the more so that her father seemed to avoid all
reference to it.
At length it was clear to Lady Florimel that if her
father had not forgotten her undertaking, but was,
as she believed, expecting from her some able stroke
of diplomacy, it was high time that something should
be done to save her credit. Nor did she forget
that the unpiped silence of the royal burgh was the
memento of a practical joke of her father, so cruel
that a piper would not accept the handsome propitiation
offered on its account by a marquis.
