“Is that the lady that throosh the gentleman that was gaun to be uncivil to our Miss Alice?” interposed Tibbie.
“Yes,” said Bessie laughing. Little Bessie was not above the vanity of being thought to know these north country magnates.—”And on New-year’s night, when all the ladies were at the Tower, (ye mind, Jacky?) Miss Falconer gied me a shilling a’ to mysel, for bringing her napkin to her, that she had left in Miss Alice’s dressing-room—and nippit my lug, and tell’t me to take care o’ Miss Alice—she ca’ed her my little mistress. Isna she an awful height herself?”
“She’s no so tall as Mrs. Catherine,” said Jacky.
“Eh, Jacky! Miss Alice didna come up to her shouther, and she’s a haill head higher than Miss Ross.”
Jacky did not choose to answer: though why there should seem any slight to Marjory, in an exaggeration of her stature, we cannot tell. Without doubt, Belphœbe was to the full as tall as she.
“Do you ken that Merkland’s been in Edinburgh?” asked Bessie. In Strathoran she had called Lewis, Mr. Ross; now she was bent on impressing Tibbie with a deep sense of her own familiarity with these great people. “Eh, Jacky, do you mind what Johnnie Halflin used to say about Merkland?”
Jacky had a high sense of honor. She made an elfin face at her talkative companion, and remained prudently silent.
“What did he say?” asked Tibbie.
“Ou naithing. Jacky and me kens.”
“An he said onything ill, I redd him to keep out o’ the power o’ my ten talents. He’s a young blackguard, like maist feck of his kind, I’ll warrant—idle serving callants, wi’ nought to do in this world, but claver about their betters, wi’ light-headed gilpies, like yoursel. I wad just like to ken what he said!”