d! And I--what am I, that I should, in my
secret mind, wish that such a gross insult to me and my child had
been glossed over? Yet such was my opinion of Henry, that I would have
willingly believed the grossest figment the swaggering ass could have
invented. Well, it skills not thinking of it. Our honest name must be
maintained, though everything else should go to ruin."

While the glover thus moralised on the unwelcome confirmation of the
tale he wished to think untrue, the expelled morrice dancer had leisure,
in the composing air of a cool and dark February night, to meditate on
the consequences of the glover's unrestrained anger.

"But it is nothing," he bethought himself, "to the wrath of Henry Wynd,
who hath killed a man for much less than placing displeasure betwixt him
and Catharine, as well as her fiery old father. Certainly I were better
have denied everything. But the humour of seeming a knowing gallant, as
in truth I am, fairly overcame me. Were I best go to finish the revel
at the Griffin? But then Maudie will rampauge on my return--ay, and this
being holiday even, I may claim a privilege. I have it: I will not to
the Griffin--I will to the smith's, who must be at home, since no one
hath seen him this day amid the revel. I will endeavour to make peace
with him, and offer my intercession with the glover. Harry is a simple,
downright fellow, and though I think he is my better in a broil, yet
in discourse I can turn him my own way. The streets are now quiet, the
night, too, is dark, and I may step aside if I meet any rioters. I will
to the smith's, and, securing him for my friend, I care little for old
Simon. St. Ringan bear me well through this night, and I will clip my
tongue out ere it shall run my head into such peril again! Yonder old
fellow, when his blood was up, looked more like a carver of buff jerkins
than a clipper of kid gloves."

With these reflections, the puissant Oliver walked swiftly, yet with as
little noise as possible, towards the wynd in which the smith, as our
readers are aware, had his habitation. But his evil fortune had not
ceased to pursue him. As he turned into the High, or principal, Street,
he heard a burst of music very near him, followed by a loud shout.

"My merry mates, the morrice dancers," thought he; "I would know old
Jeremy's rebeck among an hundred. I will venture across the street ere
they pass on; if I am espied, I shall have the renown of some private
quest, which may