“Scotland's Rights.”
“I'll leave it to my frien' Mr. Dyce to tell ye,” she said, quickly, for the lawyer had now joined the group. “It 'll aiblens cost ye 6s. 8d.,but for that I dare say he can gie ye them in the Laiten. But—but I hope we're a' frien's here?” she exclaimed, with a hurried glance round her company. “I hope we have nane o' thae aboaminable English amang us. I canna thole them! It has been a sair doon-come for Scotland since ever she drew in wi' them.” For a space she dwelt on themes of rather antique patriotism that made her audience smile, for in truth in this burgh town we see no difference between Scotch and English; in our calculations there are only the lucky folk, born, bred, and dwelling within the sound of Will Oliver's bell, and the poor souls who have to live elsewhere, all equally unfortunate, whether they be English, Irish, or Scots.
“But here I'm keepin' you gentlemen frae your dancin',” she said, interrupting herself, and consternation fell on her company, for sets were being formed for a quadrille, and her innuendo was unmistakable. She looked from one to the other of them as if enjoying their discomfiture.
“I—I—I haven't danced myself for years,” said the Provost, which was true. And Colin Cleland, sighing deeply in his prominent profile and hiding his feet, protested quadrilles were beyond him. The younger men quickly remembered other engagements and disappeared. “Will you do me the honor?” said Dr. Brash. Good man! a gentle hero's heart was under that wrinkled waistcoat.
“Oh!” said The Macintosh, rising to his arm, “you'll be sure and no' to swing me aff my feet, for I'm but a frail and giddy creature.”
“It would be but paying you back,” said the doctor, bowing. “Miss Macintosh has been swingin' us a' aff our feet since she entered the room.”
She laughed behind her clouded glasses, tapped him lightly with her fan, and swam into the opening movement of the figure. The word's abused, yet I can but say she danced divinely, with such grace, lightness of foot, and rhythm of the body that folk stared at her in admiration and incredulity; her carriage, seen from behind, came perilously near betraying her, and possibly her partner might have soon discovered who he had, even if she had not made him a confession.
“Upon my word!” said he, in a pause between the figures—“upon my word! you dance magnificently, Miss Macintosh. I must apologize for such a stiff old partner as you've gotten.”
“I micht weel dance,” said she. “You ken I'm a dancin'-mistress?” Then she whispered hurriedly in her natural voice to him. “I feel real bold, Dr. Brash, to be dancing with you here when I haven't come out yet, and I feel real mean to be deceiving you, who would dance with an old frump just because you're sorry for her, and I can't do it one minute longer. Don't you know me, really?”
“Good Lord!” said he, in an undertone, aghast. “Miss Lennox!”