I could see that the provost wasna quite sure of what I had been saying; for he replied, that it was a matter that needed consideration.
When we separated at the council-chamber, I threw myself in the way of Bailie Weezle, and walked home with him, our talk being on the subject of the vacancy; and I rehearsed to him what had passed between me and the provost, saying, that the provost had made no objection to prefer Mr Pittle, which was the truth.
Bailie Weezle was a man no overladen with worldly wisdom, and had been chosen into the council principally on account of being easily managed. In his business, he was originally by trade a baker in Glasgow, where he made a little money, and came to settle among us with his wife, who was a native of the town, and had her relations here. Being, therefore, an idle man, living on his money, and of a soft and quiet nature, he was, for the reason aforesaid, chosen into the council, where he always voted on the provost’s side; for in controverted questions every one is beholden to take a part, and he thought it his duty to side with the chief magistrate.
Having convinced the bailie that Mr Pittle had already, as it were, a sort of infeoffment in the kirk, I called in the evening on my old predecessor in the guildry, Bailie M‘Lucre, who was not a hand to be so easily dealt with; but I knew his inclinations, and therefore I resolved to go roundly to work with him. So I asked him out to take a walk, and I led him towards the town-moor, conversing loosely about one thing and another, and touching softly here and there on the vacancy.
When we were well on into the middle of the moor, I stopped, and, looking round me, said,—
“Bailie, surely it’s a great neglec’ of the magistrates and council to let this braw broad piece of land, so near the town, lie in a state o’ nature, and giving pasturage to only twa-three of the poor folks’ cows. I wonder you, that’s now a rich man, and with een worth pearls and diamonds,—that ye dinna think of asking a tack of this land; ye might make a great thing o’t.”
The fish nibbled, and told me that he had for some time entertained a thought on the subject; but he was afraid that I would be over extortionate.
“I wonder to hear you, bailie,” said I; “I trust and hope no one will ever find me out of the way of justice; and to convince you that I can do a friendly turn, I’ll no objec’ to gie you a’ my influence free gratis, if ye’ll gie Mr Pittle a lift into the kirk; for, to be plain with you, the worthy young man, who, as ye heard to-day, is no without an ability, has long been fond of Mrs Pawkie’s cousin, Miss Lizzie Pinkie; and I would fain do all that lies in my power to help on the match.”
The bailie was well pleased with my frankness, and before returning home, we came to a satisfactory understanding; so that the next thing I had to do was to see Mr Pittle himself on the subject. Accordingly, in the gloaming, I went over to where he stayed: it was with Miss Jenny Killfuddy, an elderly maiden lady, whose father was the minister of Braehill, and the same that is spoken of in the chronicle of Dalmailing, as having had his eye almost put out by a clash of glaur, at the stormy placing of Mr Balwhidder.
“Mr Pittle,” said I, as soon as I was in, and the door closed, “I’m come to you as a friend. Both Mrs Pawkie and me have long discerned that ye have had a look more than common towards our friend Miss Lizzie, and we think it our duty to inquire your intents, before matters gang to greater length.”