“Well, I’m acoontin’ for it still, and that’s three months ago; letters and papers, and papers and letters enough to drive a man daft! Well, I’m thinkin’ if a twa-and-saxpenny scairf pin can cause such a wully waugh, what’s a live bairn going to do? Now, I’m thinking—”
“May I give you a piece of advice, Mac?”
“I am always open to judeecious advice,” answered the unsuspecting Mac.
“Well, don’t think too much or you’ll hurt yourself.”
M’Gourley grunted, and at that moment the Mousmé with the camellia in her hair entered with the announcement that the bath was ready in the room above, and Leslie departed.
“When you have shown the honorable gentleman the bath, come down; I wish to speak to you,” said M’Gourley to the lady of the camellia. She obeyed the request and M’Gourley held her in light conversation, till he knew by the sounds above that his partner was in the tub. Then he released the handmaiden, and she departed upstairs.
He listened, and presently he heard Leslie’s voice.
“Go away, please. Good heavens I say, I wish you’d go away! No, I don’t want soap. I say, Mac! Hi, McGourley!—leave my back alone—M’Gourley!”
But M’Gourley, like an Indian Sachem, smoked on and answered not.
He was having his revenge for the Nikko road.