“Put up with it quietly, Harper,” advised Hamish. “She is like a little child, not accountable for her actions.”
“That’s just like you, Mr. Hamish Channing. If they took your head off, you’d put up with it! How would you like your wig flung away in the sight of a whole street?”
“I don’t wear one,” answered Hamish, laughing. “Here’s your hat; not much damaged, apparently.”
Mr. Harper, settling his wig on his head, and composing himself as he best could, continued his way to the cathedral, turning his hat about in his hand, and closely looking at it. Hamish stepped across to Mr. Galloway’s, meeting that gentleman at the door.
“A good thing you came up as you did, Mr. Hamish. Harper will remember Mad Nance for a year to come.”
“I expect he will,” replied Hamish, laughing still. Mr. Galloway laughed also, and walked hastily down the street.
CHAPTER XIV. — KEEPING OFFICE.
Hamish entered the office. Arthur and Roland Yorke had their heads stretched out of the window, and did not hear his footsteps. He advanced quietly and brought his hands down hastily upon the shoulder of each. Roland started, and knocked his head against the window-frame.