"Got tamn ye, ye auld scounrel," said the man; "do ye mean to tak my money frae me?" And he lifted up a rung big eneuch to fell a stot, and let flee at the monkey; but Nosey was ower quick for him, and jumping aside, he lichted on a shelf before ane could say Jock Robinson. Here he rowed up the note like a baw in his hand, and put it into his coat pouch like any rational cratur. Not only this, but he mockit the Heelandman by a' manner of means, shooting out his tongue at him, spitting at him, and girning at him wi' his queer outlandish physiognomy. Then he would tak haud of his tail in his twa hands, and wag it at Donald, and steeking his nieves, he would seem to threaten him wi' a leatherin'. A'thegither he was desperate impudent, and eneuch to try the patience of a saunt, no to spak o' a het-bluided Heelandman. It was gude for sair een to see how Donald behavit on this occasion. He raged like ane demented, misca'ing the monkey beyond measure, and swearing as mony Gaelic aiths as micht hae sair'd an ordinar man for a twalmonth. During this time, I never sterr'd a foot, but keepit keeking frae the back shop upon a' that was ganging on. I was highly delighted; and jealousing that Nosey was ower supple to be easily catched, I had nae apprehension for the event, and remained snug in my birth to see the upshot.
In a short time, in comes Mr. Weft wi' a piece of lowing paper in his hand that he had got frae the next door to licht the shop; and nae sooner did Donald see him than he ax'd him for his note.
"What note, honest man?" said Mr. Weft.
"Got tamn," quo' Donald; "the note the auld scounrel, your grandfather, stole frae me."
"My grandfaither!" answered the ither wi' amazement. "I am thinking, honest man, ye hae had a glass ower muckle. My grandfaither has been dead for saxteen years, and I ne'er heard tell till now that he was a fief."
"Weel, weel, then," quo' the Heelandman, "I don't care naething about it. If he's no your grandfaither, he'll be your faither, or your brither, or your cousin."
"My faither or my brither, or my cousin!" repeated Mr. Weft. "I maun tell ye plainly, frien', that I hae neither faither, nor brither, nor cousin of ony description on this side of the grave. I dinna understand ye, honest man, but I reckon that ye hae sat ower lang at the whisky, and my advice to ye is to stap awa hame and sleep it aff."
At this speech the Heelandman lost a' patience, and lookit sae awfully fairce, that ance or twice I was on the nick of coming forrit, and explaining how matters really stood; but curiosity keepit me chained to the back shop, and I just thocht I would bide a wee, and see how the affair was like to end.
"Pray, wha are you, sir?" said Donald, putting his hands in his sides, and looking through his specks upon Mr. Weft, like a deevil incarnit. "Wha are you, sir, that daar to speak to me in this manner?"