'Weel ken ye, Meg Dalrymple,' cried Mistress Thomas Tode, 'that I wadna steal ony chance-gotten loon of yours. Faith na, I wadna fyle my parritch-spurtle on his back. We shelter nae lazy gaberlunzie speldrons in the house of Cassillis. There is enough rack and ruin about the countryside as it is, withoot gatherin' in every gipsy brat and prowling night-hawk to its walls. Gin ye come here to insult my master, a belted Earl, I'll e'en set the dowgs on ye, ye gruesome ill-tongued limmer woman!'
I saw that this was to be altogether another kind of tulzie from those clattering bickers of the sword-blades, that I knew something about. So I signed to the Dominie to be silent, for here of a surety were two foemen worthy of each other's points.
'Ye shall cast no stour in my e'en, certes,' cried Meg Dalrymple. 'I ken ye, ye auld yeld crummie Tode. Ye hae nae bairns o' your ain, and ye wad kidnap the bonny bairn o' a decent woman.'
'I daresay no, "nae bairns o' my ain," quo' she,' cried Mistress Tode, roused to high anger. 'I micht hae had as mony as a clockin' hen, gin I had gane the gate ye gaed, Meg Dalrymple. I'll hae the law on ye, ye randy, casting up my man's infirmity to me.'
'Your "man," quo' she,' retorted Meg Dalrymple, 'ca' ye that auld bundle o' dish-clouts tied aboot wi' hippens—a man! Save us, one micht as soon bed ayont a pair of auld duddy breeks!'
'Ay, my man,' cried Mistress Tode, 'what hae ye to say, ye shameless woman, again Sir Thomas Tode, that has been Earl's chaplain for forty year and my lawfu' wedded man for ten?'
Mistress Tode rang out the titles like a herald now, when her husband was gainsayed and made light of. But we know that on occasions she could treat him cavalierly enough.
'I wad as sune mairry a heather cow for soopin' the rink at the channel stanes,' cried Meg Dalrymple. And this implication bit deeper into the feelings of the lady of Sir Thomas Tode than all the other reproaches, for the brush of tonsure hair was a sore subject of jesting with her, as I well knew.
'I hae telled ye,' Mistress Tode cried, pausing a moment with her hand on her side, as if to keep command of herself, 'I hae telled ye, woman, that we only deal with kenned and authenticate folk in this hoose—no wi' orra loons, that nane kens wha belangs them! And I wad hae ye ken also that I am no to be named a liar by the likes o you, Meg Dalrymple—me that has been keeper o' the larder keys o' this Earl's castle for fifteen year, me that has had the outgiving o' all plenishing, the power o' down-sitting and on-putting, and never has been checked in a bodle's worth. Gang hame, ye Canaanitish woman, and I doot na ye'll find your brat safe in the town's bridewell. It will learn ye to bide from decent folk's houses, making such a cry about your wastrel runnagates.'
'Keep your ill tongue for that disjaskit, ill-put-thegither rachle o' banes that ye hae for guidman,' cried the widow Dalrymple. 'Weel do I ken that ye hae my bairn hidden awa' somegate amang ye. Sic a trade as has been hauden wi' the puir bit laddie for carryin' a letter to the Laird o' Auchendrayne. An' the like o' you to stand in my road, Tode woman, you that is weel kenned in sax pairishes for an ill-tongued gipsy. I'll hae ye proclaimed at the market cross, a lord's cook though ye be, gin ye dinna gie me hame my bairn wi' me!'