'Ay, I hear,' said the laird, laconically. 'I would if I could, mistress, for my stomach rises at this marriage. But the wife is set on a husband for Ally.'
'I'll get her another,' cried Nancy, eagerly. 'The town's full of sparks, and to spare!'
'A bird in hand is worth two in the bush, the wife would tell you,' said the laird, with a sorry smile. 'Besides, there's money between old Cheape and me. I cannot back out of the bargain now.'
'Tut, he'll never mind the money!' cried Nancy. 'He's been a lender to half the fathers, brothers, uncles, and guardians in Scotland; for 'tis the only way he can get word with a woman. It's second nature to him to get the go-by, and if he misses Ally, he'll take up with one of her sisters in the twinkling of an eye.'
''Tis easy to be speaking to me,' said the laird, grimly. 'Why don't you speak to the mistress? 'Tis her business rather than mine, surely?'
'She's not to be moved,' said Nancy, demurely. 'But, laird, that which cannot be done by force, can often be done by guile. Are you willing, in your heart of hearts, to be off with this marriage? I know you are!'
'I am,' said the laird, rather heavily, for his conscience spoke at last.
'Well, give me a hand, and 'twill be done!' said Nancy. 'I leave this place in four days, and a man and chaise from C—— take me to Green Loaning to get the Edinburgh coach—isn't that so? And I must leave this door in the dark of the morning, before six? Isn't that the case?'
'Ay is it,'—said the laird, 'an awkward start.'
'Make it yet an hour awkwarder,' cried Nancy. 'And let no one know the time, save Ally and me, and you. Let the chaise be at the outer gate, and we'll slip down and be off before a soul's stirring. Is the mistress a good sleeper?'