Leaving our musician in the discharge of his duty, we shall step over to where Jeanie Harrison is seated, to learn what she thinks of her partner, and what the Misses Murray, the daughters of a neighbouring farmer, between whom she sat, think of him, and of Jeanie having danced with a fiddler.
Premising that the Misses Murray, not being by any means beauties themselves, entertained a very reasonable and justifiable dislike and jealousy of all their own sex to whom nature had been more bountiful in this particular; and finding, moreover, that, from their excessively bad tempers (this, however, of course, not admitted by the ladies themselves), they could neither practise nor share in the amenities which usually mark the intercourse of the sexes, they had set up for connoisseurs in the articles of propriety and decorum, of which they professed to be profound judges—premising this, then, we proceed to quote the conversation that passed between the three ladies—that is, the Misses Murray and Miss Harrison; the latter taking her seat between them after dancing with the fiddler.
“My certy!” exclaimed the elder, with a very dignified toss of the head, “ye warna nice, Jeanie, to dance wi’ a fiddler. I wad hae been very ill aff, indeed, for a partner before I wad hae taen up wi’ such a ragamuffin.”
“An’ to go an’ ask him too!” said the younger, with an imitative toss. “I wadna ask the best man in the land to dance wi’ me, let alane a fiddler! If they dinna choose to come o’ their ain accord, they may stay.”
“Tuts, lassies, it was a’ a piece o’ fun,” said the good-humoured girl. “I’m sure everybody saw that but yersels. Besides, the man’s well aneugh—na, a gude deal mair than that, if he was only a wee better clad. There’s no a better-lookin man in the room; and I wish, lassies,” she added, “ye may get as guid dancers in your partners—that’s a’.”
“Umph! a bonny like taste ye hae, Jeanie, an’ a very strange notion o’ propriety!” exclaimed the elder, with another toss of the head.
“To dance wi’ a fiddler!” simpered out the younger—who, by the way, was no chicken either, being but a trifle on the right side of thirty.
“Ay, to be sure, dance wi’ a fiddler or a piper either. I’ll dance wi’ baith o’ them—an’ what for no?” replied Jeanie. “There’s neither sin nor shame in’t; and I’ll dance wi’ him again, if he’ll only but ask me.”
“An’ faith he’ll do that wi’ a’ the pleasure in the warld, my bonny lassie,” quoth the intrepid fiddler, leaping down once more from his high place; for, there having been a cessation of both music and dancing while the conversation above recorded was going on, he had heard every word of it. “Wi’ a’ the pleasure in the warld,” he said, advancing towards Jeanie Harrison, and making one of his best bows of invitation; and again a shout of approbation from the company urged Jeanie to accept it, which she readily did, at once to gratify her friends and to provoke the Misses Murray.
Having accordingly taken her place on the floor, and other couples having been mustered for the set, Jeanie’s partner again called on Willie to strike up; again the dancers started, and again the fiddler astonished and delighted the company with the grace and elegance of his performances. On this occasion, however, the unknown musician’s predilection for his fair partner exhibited a more unequivocal character; and he even ventured to inquire if he might call at her father’s, to amuse the family for an hour or so with his fiddle.