“Blaw awa’, my man,” murmured Mrs Wilson; “it’ll be a gey while or the second pair comes out, for a’ yer blawin’. Did ye want onything, sirs?” she inquired, going up to the equipage.
“To be sure,” answered one of the gentlemen; “four horses immediately—we’re pushed for time.”
“Hech, sirs, so are we a’, but time’ll hae the best o’t,” replied the hostess. “Ye maun just hae patience, sirs, for ye canna get on this three hours.”
“Three hours!” exclaimed the gentleman; “why, what’s the matter? Why the deuce don’t they get out the horses?”
“Just for the same raison the Hielanman couldna’ get out the bawbee,” replied the imperturbable Meg Dods; “the deil a plack was in his pouch, puir body—an’ sae, ye see, ye maun just stay still.”
“My lord,” interposed one of the servants, touching his hat, “there’s a pair of very natty greys just coming out of the stable, and a pair of bays with the harness on. I have seen them in stall”—
“Then let us have them, Charles, by all means,” replied his lordship.
“Yes, my lord.”
In a very short time high words were heard, from which it was evident that by no means a complimentary opinion was entertained of the gentlemanly conduct of the nobleman’s dependant by the guard and ornament of the plain chariot.
“I say, my fine chap, you leave them there grey ’osses alone, will ye? they ain’t none o’ yourn.”