“Ay, is he,” said the other. “Aweel, there's Jess Rutherford, a widdy, wi' four bairns, ye meicht do waur than ware your siller on her.”
“Five pounds to begin?” inquired his lordship.
“Five pund! Are ye made o' siller? Ten schell'n!”
Saunders was rung for, and produced a one-pound note.
“The herrin' is five and saxpence; it's four and saxpence I'm awin ye,” said the young fishwife, “and Jess will be a glad woman the neicht.”
The settlement was effected, and away went the two friends, saying:
“Good-boye, vile count.”
Their host fell into thought.
“When have I talked so much?” asked he of himself.
“Dr. Aberford, you are a wonderful man; I like your lower classes amazingly.”