“Gudeman!” retorted Grizzy; “troth, there’s few o’ ye deserve the name; and as for that idle loon, I ken he’ll no work a stroke the morn, though wife and weans should want baith milk and meal.”
“’Odsake, wife,” cried Robin, “if ye shake Tammy weel, he’ll keep ye a’ in parritch for a week.”
“She’ll shake him,” cried the angry Mrs Scoreup; “cocks are free o’ horses’ corn; I’ll shake him,” making, as she spoke, towards the unfortunate half-choked Tammy.
“Will ye, faith?” screamed Grizzy, putting her arms akimbo. “Will ye offer to lay a hand on my gudeman, and me standing here? Come out this minute, ye Jonadub, and come hame to your ain house.”
“No ae fit shall he steer frae this,” cried Mrs Scoreup, slapping-to the door, “till I see wha is to pay me for the spoiling o’ my gude new girnel, forby the meal that’s wasted.”
“New girnel!” exclaimed Grizzy, with a provoking sneer, “it’s about as auld as yoursel, and as little worth.”
“Ye ill-tongued randy!” cried Mrs Scoreup, giving the ladle a most portentous flourish.
“Whisht, whisht, gudewife,” said Robin; “say nae mair about it, we’ll mak it up amang us; and now, Grizzy, tak Tammy awa hame.”
“It’s no right in you, Robin,” said Grizzy, “to be filling Tammy fou, and keeping decent folks out o’ their beds till this time o’ night.”
“It’s a’ Tammy’s faut,” replied Robin; “for ye ken as well as me, that when ance he begins to tell a story, there’s nae such thing as stopping him; he has been blethering about the Calton hill at nae allowance.”