“But with these changes you must also have seen many improvements?” said Mary, in a tone of diffidence.
“Impruvements!” turning sharply round upon her, “what ken ye about impruvements, bairn? A bonnie impruvement to see tylors and sclaters leevin’ whaur I mind Jukes and Yerls. An’ that great glowerin’ New Town there,” pointing out of her windows, “whaur I used to sit and look at bonnie green parks, and see the kye milket, and the bits o’ bairnies rowin’ an’ tumblin’, an’ the lasses trampin’ in their tubs;—what see I noo, but stane and lime, and stour and dirt, and idle chiels, and dunket-out madams prancing.—Impruvements, indeed!”
Here a long pinch of snuff caused a pause in the old lady’s harangue; but after having duly wiped her nose with her coloured handkerchief, and shook off all the particles that might be presumed to have lodged upon her cardinal, she resumed:
“An’ nae word o’ ony o’ your sisters gaun to get men yet? They tell me they’re but coorse lasses; an’ wha’ll tak ill-faured, tocherless queans, when there’s walth o’ bonny faces an’ lang purses i’ the market?—he, he!” Then resuming her scrutiny of Mary,—“An’ I’se warran’ ye’ll be lookin’ for an English sweetheart too;—that’ll be what’s takin’ ye awa to England!”
“On the contrary,” said Mr Douglas, seeing Mary was too much frightened to answer for herself—“on the contrary, Mary declares she will never marry any but a true Highlander—one who wears the dirk and plaid, and has the ‘second sight.’ And the nuptials are to be celebrated with all the pomp of feudal times; with bagpipes and bonfires, and gatherings of clans, and roasted sheep, and barrels of whisky, and”——
“Weel a wat an’ she’s i’ the right there,” interrupted Mrs Mackshake, with more complacency than she had yet shown. “They may ca’ them what they like, but there’s nae waddin’s noo. Wha’s the better o’ them but innkeepers and chaise-drivers? I wadna count mysel married i’ the hidlin’s way they gang aboot it noo.”
Mr Douglas, who was now rather tired of the old lady’s reminiscences, availed himself of the opportunity of a fresh pinch to rise and take leave.
“Ou, what’s takin’ ye awa, Archie, in sic a hurry? Sit doon there,” laying her hand upon his arm, “an’ rest ye, and tak a glass o’ wine; or maybe,” turning to Mary, “ye wad rather hae a drap broth to warm ye. What gars ye look sae blae, my bairn? I’m sure it’s no cauld; but ye’re just like the lave; ye gang a’ skiltin’ about the streets half-naked, an’ then ye maun sit and birsle yersels afore the fire at hame.”
The wine being drunk, and the cookies discussed, Mr Douglas made another attempt to withdraw, but in vain.
“Canna ye sit still a wee, man, an’ let me speir after my auld freens at Glenfern? Hoo’s Grizzy, an’ Jacky, an’ Nicky?—aye working awa at the pills and the drogs?—he, he! I ne’er swallowed a pill, nor gaed a doit for drogs, a’ my days, an’ see an ony of them’ll run a race wi’ me when they’re naur five score.”