“And hand and glove wi’ Lord Ravenswood,” added Dame Lightbody.
“Doited idiot! that auld, clavering sneckdrawer wad gar ye trow the moon is made of green cheese. The Lord Keeper and Ravenswood! they are cat and dog, hare and hound.”
“I tell ye they are man and wife, and gree better than some others that are sae,” retorted the mother-in-law; “forbye, Peter Puncheon, that’s cooper the Queen’s stores, is dead, and the place is to fill, and——”
“Od guide us, wull ye haud your skirling tongues!” said Girder,—for we are to remark, that this explanation was given like a catch for two voices, the younger dame, much encouraged by the turn of the debate, taking up and repeating in a higher tone the words as fast as they were uttered by her mother.
“The gudewife says naething but what’s true, maister,” said Girder’s foreman, who had come in during the fray. “I saw the Lord Keeper’s servants drinking and driving ower at Luckie Sma’trash’s, ower-bye yonder.”
“And is their maister up at Wolf’s Crag?” said Girder.
“Ay, troth is he,” replied his man of confidence.
“And friends wi’ Ravenswood?”
“It’s like sae,” answered the foreman, “since he is putting up wi’ him.”
“And Peter Puncheon’s dead?”