But, as I have said, this was only a speech which he intended to deliver in the presence of his wife. Scarce had he sat down in the parlour where she was, until he perceived, from her looks and manner, that there was a coming storm; and he knew that the address which he had prepared would be ill-timed. He therefore sat in silence; but she did not long follow his example.
“Kerr,” said she, “I don’t know whether you mean to kill me, or what you mean to do; but I am kept here, mewed up like a prisoner.”
“Me keep you mewed up, dear!” said he; “ye certainly know that ye have full scope and liberty to do as ye please—ye are mistress of your own actions.”
“Me mistress of my own actions!” exclaimed she; “me go where I please!—what do ye mean? How can I go any where? Would you have me to go wading through the mire to visit any respectable person?”
“Certainly not, my dear!” said he; “but ye can take a fine day for your visits, when it is dry under foot.”
“O you brute!” exclaimed the delicate Mrs Kerr, “when shall I teach you to know anything? When shall I get your ideas carried beyond your counter? Is it not disgraceful to see you trudge, trudging into the town every day, like some poor beggar that had to work for his bread?”
“Beggars dinna work, hinny,” said he—“but do not be in a passion.”
“Passion!” cried she; “I tell you what, Kerr—if you continue to disgrace me as you have done, I shall never set my foot upon the outside of your threshold again. Why don’t you get a carriage?”
“A carriage!” he exclaimed, as though a thunderbolt had startled him in its flight.