Chapter 1 - Page 2

and pistolling enough to serve him one while, I should
think."

Here Miss Oldbuck entered the parlour, at the door of which Oldbuck was
carrying on this conversation, he bellowing downward to Jenny, and she
again screaming upward in reply.

"Dear brother," said the old lady, "ye'll cry yoursell as hoarse as a
corbie--is that the way to skreigh when there's a sick person in the
house?"

"Upon my word, the sick person's like to have all the house to himself,--
I have gone without my breakfast, and am like to go without my wig; and I
must not, I suppose, presume to say I feel either hunger or cold, for
fear of disturbing the sick gentleman who lies six rooms off, and who
feels himself well enough to send for his dog and gun, though he knows I
detest such implements ever since our elder brother, poor Williewald,
marched out of the world on a pair of damp feet, caught in the
Kittlefitting-moss. But that signifies nothing; I suppose I shall be
expected by and by to lend a hand to carry Squire Hector out upon his
litter, while he indulges his sportsmanlike propensities by shooting my
pigeons, or my turkeys--I think any of the _ferae naturae_ are safe from
him for one while."

Miss M'Intyre now entered, and began to her usual morning's task of
arranging her uncle's breakfast, with the alertness of one who is too
late in setting about a task, and is anxious to make up for lost time.
But this did not avail her. "Take care, you silly womankind--that mum's
too near the fire--the bottle will burst; and I suppose you intend to
reduce the toast to a cinder as a burnt-offering for Juno, or what do you
call her--the female dog there, with some such Pantheon kind of a name,
that your wise brother has, in his first moments of mature reflection,
ordered up as a fitting inmate of my house (I thank him), and meet
company to aid the rest of the womankind of my household in their daily
conversation and intercourse with him."

"Dear uncle, don't be angry about the poor spaniel; she's been tied up at
my brother's lodgings at Fairport, and she's broke her chain twice, and
came running down here to him; and you would not have us beat the
faithful beast away from the door?--it moans as if it had some sense of
poor Hector's misfortune, and will hardly stir from the door of his
room."

"Why," said his uncle, "they said Caxon had gone to Fairport after his
dog and gun."

"O dear sir, no," answered Miss M'Intyre, "it was to fetch some dressings
that were wanted, and Hector only wished him to bring out his gun, as he
was going to Fairport at any rate."

"Well, then, it is not altogether so foolish a