Well, grandmother came in wiping her hands. It seems to me now that I see her—and, indeed, whenever she does make an entry into the story, I always feel that I must write yet another page about the dear, warm-hearted, tumultuous old lady.
She saw the slender lawyer with the brown coat worn shiny, the scratch wig tied with its black wisp of silk, and the black bag in his hand. He had been taking a survey of the room, and started round quickly at the entrance of my grandmother. Then he made a deep bow, and grandmother, who could be very grand indeed when she liked, bestowed upon him a curtsey the like of which he had not seen for a long while.
“My name is Poole,” he said apologetically. “I presume I have the honour of speaking to Mistress Mary Lyon, spouse and consort of William Lyon, tacksman of the Mill of Marnhoul with all its lades, weirs, and pendicles——”
“If you mean that William Lyon is my man, ye are on the bit so far,” said my grandmother; “pass on. What else hae ye to say? I dinna suppose that ye cam’ here to ask a sicht o’ my marriage lines.”
“It is, indeed, a different matter which has brought me thus far,” said the lawyer man, with a certain diffidence, “but I think that perhaps I ought to wait till—till your husband, in fact——”
“If you are waiting for Weelyum,” said Mary Lyon, “ye needna fash. He is o’ the same mind as me—or will be after I have spoken wi’ him. Say on!”
“Well, then,” the lawyer continued, “it is difficult—but the matter resolves itself into this. I understand—my firm understands, that you are harbouring in or about this house a young woman calling herself Irma Sobieski Maitland, and a child of the male sex whom the aforesaid Irma Sobieski affirms to be the rightful owner of this estate—in fact, Sir Louis Maitland. Now, my firm have been long without direct news of the family whom they represent. Our intelligence of late years has come from their titular and legal guardian, Mr. Lalor Maitland, Governor of the district of the Upper Meuse in the Brabants. Now we have recently heard from this gentleman that his wards—two children bearing a certain resemblance to those whom, we are informed, you have been harbouring——”
My grandmother’s temper, always uncertain with adults with whom she had no sympathy, had been gradually rising at each repetition of an offending word.
“Harbouring,” she cried, “harbouring—let me hear that word come out o’ your impident mouth again, ye upsettin’ body wi’ the black bag, and I’ll gie ye the weight o’ my hand against the side o’ your face. Let me tell you that in the house of Heathknowes we harbour neither burrowing rats nor creepin’ foumarts, nor any manner of unclean beasts—and as for a lawvier, if lawvier ye be, ye are the first o’ your breed to enter here, and if my sons hear ye talkin’ o’ harbourin’—certes, ye stand a chance to gang oot the door wi’ your feet foremost!”
“My good woman,” said the lawyer, “I was but using an ordinary word, in perfect ignorance of any——”