'It's true! James Sangster, Roderick Brown is a man of sin!'
'We're all sinners, my dear. If you'd only mind that always, and that it includes yourself, you'd speak more charitably of your neighbours. I wish I was as sure of myself, or you either, as I am of young Brown. He's a true christian--the very salt of the earth!'
'The salt has lost its savour, then, for he's a bad man!'
'Oh fie, Mrs. Sangster! And it's not a month yet since you were talking of marrying him to our Sophia! and I really felt like agreeing with you for once. He'd make a better man for her than that whiskered gomeral down stairs--for all his siller. I'm thinking its the Englishman's bawbees, mistress, have changed your tune.'
'I am not mercenary!' retorted Mrs. Sangster, stiffening herself in her dignity and her best English; 'and you well know it! Though but for my christian prudence, your standing in the world, and your balance at the bank, which is more within your narrow comprehension, would not be what they are!'
'Hoity toity, woman! no offence! Well! you've woke me up, at any rate now, (the pertinacity of these weaker vessels!) so say your say and have done!' and thereupon he sat up in bed, adjusting the white nightcap with its tufted summit over his red sun-burnt face. The clouds of sleep had entirely dispersed themselves, and with them every shadow of ill-humour; but there was a twinkle at the corner of his eye at the absurdity of his wife's vehemence, which she found harder to bear up against. 'Tell away, my dear, I'm listening.'
His wife cleared her voice and opened her lips, but nothing came.
'A mountain in labour and out comes a mouse! "ridiculus mus" we used to say at the Grammar School of Forfar.'
'There's nothing ridiculous about it!' retorted the lady, snatching at an excuse to become indignant again, and so bear up under the tranquil cynicism in her husband's face. 'But you men are always for casting ridicule on serious things. You think it shows your superiority, I suppose.'
'Never mind, my dear, go on with your story.'