“Come,” said he, as he jumped about in front of him, “come and join in;” and liftin’ the end of his bow suddenly, tipt off his hat for him, and said, “Come, she will dance with you herself.”
The stranger deliberately laid down his travelling-bag and paper parcel, and lifting up both hands said, “Satan, avaunt.” But Peter misunderstood him, and thought he said, “Sartain, I can’t.”
“She canna do tat,” he replied, “can’t she, then she’ll teach you the step herself. This is the way,” and his feet approached so near the solemncolly man that he retreated a step or two as if to protect his shins. Everybody in the room was convulsed with laughter, for all saw what the intruder was, and the singular mistake Peter was making. It broke up the reel. The doctor put his hands to his sides, bent forward, and made the most comical contortions of face. In this position he shuffled across the room, and actually roared out with laughter.
I shall never forget the scene; I have made a sketch of it, to illustrate this for you. There was this demure sinner, standing bolt upright in front of the door, his hat hanging on the handle, which had arrested it in its fall, and his long black hair, as if partaking of his consternation, flowing wildly over his cheeks; while Peter, utterly unconscious that no one was dancing, continued playing and capering in front of him, as if he was ravin distracted, and the doctor bent forward, pressing his sides with his hands, as if to prevent their bursting, laughed as if he was in hysterics. It was the most comical thing I ever saw. I couldn’t resist it no longer, so I joined the trio.
“Come, Doctor,” sais I, “a three-handed reel,” and entering into the joke, he seized the stranger by one hand, and I by the other, and before our silent friend knew where he was, he was in the middle of the floor, and though he was not made to dance, he was pushed or flung into his place, and turned and faced about as if he was taking his first lesson. At last, as if by common consent, we all ceased laughing, from sheer exhaustion. The stranger still kept his position in the centre of the floor, and when silence was restored, raised his hands again in pious horror, and said, in a deep, sepulchral voice:
“Fiddling and dancing, and serving the devil. Do you ever think of your latter end?”
“Thee had better think of thine, friend,” I whispered, assuming the manner of a quaker for fun, “for Peter is a rough customer, and won’t stand upon ceremony.”
“Amhic an aibhisteir (son of the devil),” said Peter, shaking his fist at him, “if she don’t like it, she had better go. It’s her own house, and she will do what she likes in it. Faat does she want?”
“I want the man called Samuel Slick,” said he.
“Verily,” sais I, “friend, I am that man, and wilt thee tell me who thee is that wantest me, and where thee livest?”