The girl goes to the door and brings in a companion who explained that the order was for Tobermory.
“Who is to get the order?”
“My mother, to be surely.”
“What is your mother’s name?”
“My mother’s name is Mrs. M’Tavish.”
“What is your mother’s Christian name?”
“What you’ll want to know whether my Christian be a mother or not?” demanded the girl, now in a perfect rage with anger. “My mother be a good Christian woman, and will go to the Free Church in Tobermory every Sabbath, which is maybe more than you’ll do.”
“I don’t want to know anything about what church your mother goes to; I only wish to know her Christian name,” now, somewhat mildly, explained the clerk.
“My mother’s name is Mrs. M’Tavish,” replied the girl, “and she’s the decenter married womans than you are, and I’ll not tell any mans born any more, whatever,” and off she marched in the very highest dudgeon.