An' you, John, should think shame o' yersel'. Ye
should baith be sayin' it's terrible kind o' Mistress McOstrich to
ask ye what nicht wud suit yer convenience.'
Macgregor regarded his mother almost as in the days when he
addressed her as 'Maw'--yet not quite. There was a twinkle in his
eye. Evidently she had clean forgotten he had grown up! Possibly
she detected the twinkle and perceived her relapse, for she went on
quickly--
'Though dear knows hoo Mistress McOstrich can afford to gi'e a
pairty wi' her man's trade in its present condeetion.'
'She's been daft for gi'ein' pah-ties since ever I can mind,' Mr.
Robinson put in, 'an' the Kaiser hissel' couldna stop her, Still,
Macgreegor, she's an auld frien', an' it wud be a peety to offend
her. Ye'll be mair at hame there nor ye was at yer Aunt Purdie's
swell affair. Dod, Lizzie, thon was a gorgeous banquet! I never
tasted as much nor ett as little; I never heard sich high-class
conversation nor felt liker a nap; I never sat on safter chairs nor
looked liker a martyr on tin tacks.'
Macgregor joined in his father's guffaw, but stopped short, loyalty
revolting. Aunt Purdie had meant it kindly.
'Tits, John!' said Lizzie, 'ye got on fine excep' when ye let yer
wine jeelly drap on the carpet.'
'Oho, so there was wine in 't! I fancied it was inebriated-like.
But the mistak' I made was in tryin' to kep it when it was
descendin'. A duke wud jist ha'e let it gang as if a wine jeelly
was naething to him.
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