“'Faith I can—with a poker,” cried Andy; “and you'd better take care, master parchment. Make my mark, indeed!—do you think I'd disgrace the House o' Peers by lettin' on that a lord couldn't write?—Quit the buildin', I tell you!”
In the midst of the row, which now rose to a tremendous pitch, Dick returned; and after a severe reprimand to the pettifogger for his sinister attempt on Andy, referred him to Lord Scatterbrain's solicitor. It was not such an easy matter to silence Bridget, who extended her claws towards her lord and master in a very menacing manner, calling down bitter imprecations on her own head if she wouldn't have her rights.
Every now and then between the bursts of the storm Andy would exclaim, “Get out!”
“My lord,” said Dick, “remember your dignity.”
“Av coorse!” said Andy; “but still she must get out!”
The house was at last cleared of the uproarious party; but though Andy got rid of their presence, they left their sting behind. Lord Scatterbrain felt, for the first time, that a lord can be very unhappy.
Dick hurried him away at once to the chambers of the law agent, but he, being closeted on some very important business with another client on their arrival, returned an answer to their application for a conference, which they forwarded through the double doors of this sanctum by a hard-looking man with a pen behind his ear, that he could not have the pleasure of seeing them till the next morning. Lord Scatterbrain passed a more unhappy night than he had ever done in his life—even than that when he was tied up to the old tree—croaked at by ravens, and the despised of rats.
Negotiations were opened the next day between the pettifogger on Bridget's side and the law agent of the noble lord, and the arguments, pro and con., lay thus:
In the first place, the opening declaration was—Lord Scatterbrain never would live with the aforesaid Bridget.
Answered—that nevertheless, as she was his lawful wife, a provision suitable to her rank must be made.