Gin I thought ye wad mairry
ony pock-puddin', fient haed wad ye hae gotten frae me. Noo, had ye're
tongue, and dinna deive me wi' thanks," almost pushing her into the
parlour again; "and sin ye're gaun awa the morn, I'll see nae mair o' ye
enoo--so fare ye weel. But, Archie, ye maun come an' tak your breakfast
wi' me. I hae muckle to say to you; but ye manna be sae hard upon my
baps as ye used to be," with a facetious grin to her mollified
favourite, as they shook hands and parted.
"Well, how do you like Mrs. Macshake, Mary?" asked her uncle as they
walked home.
"That is a cruel question, uncle," answered she, with a smile. "My
gratitude and my taste are at such variance," displaying her splendid
gift, "that I know not how to reconcile them."
"That is always the case with those whom Mrs. Macshake has obliged,"
returned Mr. Douglas. "She does many liberal things, but in so
ungracious a manner that people are never sure whether they are obliged
or insulted by her. But the way in which she receives kindness is still
worse. Could anything equal her impertinence about my roebuck? Faith,
I've a good mind never to enter her door again!"
Mary could scarcely preserve her gravity at her uncle's indignation,
which seemed so disproportioned to the cause. But, to turn the current
of his ideas, she remarked that he had certainly been at pains to select
two admirable specimens of her countrywomen for her.
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