Here the man interposed, plucking at her shawl.
“Jean, say it was in the papers, and be done wi’t. What’s the use of so many words?”
“Bravo!” said Mr. Charles; “you are a sensible man. Now, let us hear it; and be so good as to be brief, my good woman, for I must be on the Links at half-past four.”
Mr. Charles grew quite energetic and brisk as he spoke. There is nothing an idle man loves like this playing at business—those fictitious bonds of engagements, appointments, and all the pretences at an occupied life, which when they are real, constitute a heavy bondage. He seemed to feel himself a most important member of society as he specified the hour at which he must be gone. The man obeyed this suggestion, once more nudging his wife; but the woman, with livelier instinct, saw through it.
“We might come again,” she said; “another day, maybe, when the gentleman is no engaged.”
“I can give you my time till a quarter-past four,” said Mr. Charles; and then there followed a little consultation between his visitors, a controversy as to how to state their case.
“It was about an advertisement in the papers. There’s nae telling the meaning of an advertisement. It was something that was to be to the advantage of the person—”
“Ah! you are John Macgregor then,” Mr. Charles said, with instant brightening up of all faculties, and great internal contentment that he was the first to hear.
“I’m no saying that. It’s ane we have heard of—ane we ken, mair or less,” said the woman; “a poor man that’s aye busy, and has little time to spare. We were to find out for him what it was about. Hold your tongue!” she said, turning round upon her husband. “Am I the one to speak, or am I no?”
“Oh, ay! you’re the one to speak; but you’ve ower mony phrases,” said the husband, muttering.