‘I prithee drink thy liquor, friend,’ said the good Quaker; ‘thou meanest it in civility, but we care not for these idle fashions.’
‘What! ye are a Quaker, are ye?’ said Peter; and without further ceremony reared the flagon to his head, from which he withdrew it not while a single drop of ‘barley-broo’ remained. ‘That’s done you and me muckle gude,’ he said, sighing as he set down his pot; ‘but twa mutchkins o’ yill between twa folk is a drappie ower little measure. What say ye to anither pot? or shall we cry in a blithe Scots pint at ance? The yill is no amiss.’
‘Thou mayst call for what thou wilt on thine own charges, friend,’ said Geddes; ‘for myself, I willingly contribute to the quenching of thy natural thirst; but I fear it were no such easy matter to relieve thy acquired and artificial drought.’
‘That is to say, in plain terms, ye are for withdrawing your caution with the folk of the house? You Quaker folk are but fause comforters; but since ye have garred me drink sae muckle cauld yill—me that am no used to the like of it in the forenoon—I think ye might as weel have offered me a glass of brandy or usquabae—I’m nae nice body—I can drink onything that’s wet and toothsome.’
‘Not a drop at my cost, friend,’ quoth Geddes. ‘Thou art an old man, and hast perchance a heavy and long journey before thee. Thou art, moreover, my countryman, as I judge from thy tongue; and I will not give thee the means of dishonouring thy grey hairs in a strange land.’
‘Grey hairs, neighbour!’ said Peter, with a wink to the bystanders, whom this dialogue began to interest, and who were in hopes of seeing the Quaker played off by the crazed beggar, for such Peter Peebles appeared to be. ‘Grey hairs! The Lord mend your eyesight, neighbour, that disna ken grey hairs frae a tow wig!’
This jest procured a shout of laughter, and, what was still more acceptable than dry applause, a man who stood beside called out, ‘Father Crackenthorp, bring a nipperkin of brandy. I’ll bestow a dram on this fellow, were it but for that very word.’
The brandy was immediately brought by a wench who acted as barmaid; and Peter, with a grin of delight, filled a glass, quaffed it off, and then saying, ‘God bless me! I was so unmannerly as not to drink to ye—I think the Quaker has smitten me wi’ his ill-bred havings,’—he was about to fill another, when his hand was arrested by his new friend; who said at the same time, ‘No, no, friend—fair play’s a jewel—time about, if you please.’ And filling a glass for himself, emptied it as gallantly as Peter could have done. ‘What say you to that, friend?’ he continued, addressing the Quaker.
‘Nay, friend,’ answered Joshua, ‘it went down thy throat, not mine; and I have nothing to say about what concerns me not; but if thou art a man of humanity, thou wilt not give this poor creature the means of debauchery. Bethink thee that they will spurn him from the door, as they would do a houseless and masterless dog, and that he may die on the sands or on the common. And if he has through thy means been rendered incapable of helping himself, thou shalt not be innocent of his blood.’
‘Faith, Broadbrim, I believe thou art right, and the old gentleman in the flaxen jazy shall have no more of the comforter. Besides, we have business in hand to-day, and this fellow, for as mad as he looks, may have a nose on his face after all. Hark ye, father,—what is your name, and what brings you into such an out-of-the-way corner?’