"I scarce know how to approach you, Margaret, you are grown such a mighty grand dame," he said, with an affected reverence.
"Eh day! what's the meaning of this foolery?" she cried.
"You must be a maid of honour, at least," pursued the minister. "Nay, nay, you can't gainsay me. Charles Stuart slept at your house last night, and kissed you when he went away. 'Twas a great honour, no doubt—a very great honour—and you may well be proud."
"I should be proud, if I thought it was the king who had kissed me," she rejoined, sharply. "But the guests who slept in my house last night were plain country gentlemen, and it's no business of yours to meddle with them."
"Slept, quotha!" cried Wesley, lifting up his hands. "Why, not one of the party has been a-bed except the young damsel, and two of them have been out all night. You see I'm well informed, Margaret!"
"I know who has told you these shameful falsehoods—'tis that false, mischief-making knave, Reuben Rufford."
"Reuben is an honest man, and of the right leaven. You will have to render an account of your guests, dame."
"I tell you my guests were all strangers to me. How can I give an account of them? They paid their lawful reckoning, and that's more than everybody does. All you desire is to get me into trouble—but I'm not afraid. Out of my house with you!"
"Woman! woman! listen to me!"
"No, I won't listen to you any longer. Out of my house, I say; or I'll find some one to kick you out."