Mr. Douglas, happy to find anything to which he could assent, warmly joined in the eulogium on the excellence of his friend’s heart.  It did not appear, however, to give the satisfaction he expected.  The lady resumed with a sigh, “Nobody can know Mr. Gawffaw’s heart better than I do, Mr. Douglas.  It is a good one, but it is far from being an elegant one; it is one in which I find no congeniality of sentiment with my own.  Indeed, Mr. Gawffaw is no companion for me, nor I for him, Mr. Douglas; he is never happy in my society, and I really believe he would rather sit down with the tinklers on the roadside as spend a day in my company.”

A deep sigh followed; but its pathos was drowned in the obstreperous ha, ha, ha! of her joyous helpmate, as he bounced into the room, wiping his forehead.

“’Why, May, my dear, what have you been to-day?  Things have been all going to the deuce.  Why didn’t you hinder these boys from sweein’ the gate off its hinges, and—­”

“Me hinder boys from sweein’ gates, Mr. Gawffaw!  Do I look like as if I was capable of hindering boys from sweein’ gates, Miss Douglas?”

“Well, my dear, you ought to look after your pigs a little better.  That jade, black Jess, has trod a parcel of them to death, ha, ha, ha!  And—­”

“Me look after pigs, Mr. Gawffaw!  I am really astonished at you!” again interrupted the lady, turning pale with vexation.  Then, with an affected giggle, appealing to Mary, “I leave you to judge, Miss Douglas, if I look like a person made for running after pigs!”

“Indeed,” thought Mary, “you don’t look like as if you could do anything half so useful.”

“Well, never mind the pigs, my dear; only don’t give us any of them for dinner—­ha, ha, ha I—­and, May, when will you let us have it?”

“Me let you have it, Mr. Gawffaw!  I’m sure I don’t hinder you from having it when you please, only you know I prefer late hours myself.  I was always accustomed to them in my poor father’s lifetime.  He never dined before four o’clock; and I seldom knew what it was to be in my bed before twelve o’clock at night, Miss Douglas, till I married Mr. Gawffaw!”

Mary tried to look sorrowful, to hide the smile that was dimpling her cheek.

“Come, let us have something to eat in the meantime, my dear.”

“I’m sure you may eat the house, if you please, for me, Mr. Gawffaw!  What would you take, Miss Douglas?  But pull the bell—­softly, Mr. Gawffaw!  You do everything so violently.”

A dirty maid-servant, with bare feet, answered the summons.

“Where’s Tom?” demanded the lady, well knowing that Tom was afar off at some of the farm operations.

“I ken nae whar he’s.  He’ll be aether at the patatees, or the horses, I’se warran.  Div ye want him?”

“Bring some glasses,” said her mistress, with an air of great dignity.  “Mr. Gawffaw, you must see about the wine yourself since you have sent Tom out of the way.”