"Well, of course, a fellow has to do some of it if he's a hero," said Hugh John, who has always high ideas of the proper thing; "it's in his part, you see, and he has to—else he wouldn't be respected. But I think if ever I had to be a hero, I would dress up Sir Toady for the girl's part. Then if he monkeyed too much, why—I could welt him well after. But (he added with a sigh), with a girl, you can't, of course."
"Well, anyway," said Sweetheart, thinking that possibly the tale-teller might feel aggrieved at these uncomplimentary remarks, "I think it is just a beautiful story, and I love the dear Bailie for being willing to go all that way with Frank, and get hung up in the tree by the coat-tails and all!"
"Rats!" said Hugh John, contemptuously, "think if he had known that, he would ever have left Glasgow—not much!"
"Well, it was beautiful, I think," said Sweetheart, "but I am sorry that they drowned the poor man Morris, especially when he was so very frightened."
But the instant indignant outcry of the boys silenced her. Lochs twelve feet deep, it speedily appeared, ought to be provided by law everywhere over the kingdoms three, for the accommodation of such "sweeps" and "sneaks" and "cowards."
Then Mistress Margaret spoke up for the first time. She had been sitting with her eyes fixed dreamily on the sparkle of the logs in the library fireplace.
"What a blessing it is," she said, "that this is a rainy Saturday, and so we do not need to wait for more. Please go on with the story—JUST where you left off."
And Maid Margaret's form of government being absolute monarchy, I did so, and the result was
