es on this
Sabbath morning by some plea of indisposition which, as was eventually
perceived, would only give way before liberal doses of the medicine
kept at the sign of the Red Lion.

The laughter of these worthies did not commend itself to Liza's
sympathies, for, turning hotly upon them, she said, "And you're worse
nor he is, you old sypers."

"Liza, Liza," cried Robbie, raising his forefinger in an attitude of
remonstrance, which he had just previously been practising on the
unhappy Dash,--"Liza, think what it is to call this reverend clerk and
sexton and curate a _toper!_"

"And so he is; he's like yourself, he's only half-baked, the half
thick."

"Now--now--now, Liza!" cried Robbie, raising himself on his haunches
the better to give effect to his purpose of playing the part of
peacemaker and restraining the ardor of his outspoken little friend.

"Come your ways out, I say," said Liza, not waiting for the admonition
that was hanging large on the lips of the blear-eyed philosopher on
the floor.

"Come your ways," she repeated; "I would be solid and solemn with
you."

Robbie was at this instant struggling to regain possession of the
itinerant Dash, who, perceiving a means of escape, was hobbling his
way to the door.

"Wait a minute," said Robbie, having captured the runaway,--"wait a
minute, Liza, and Dash will show you how to dance like Mother Garth."

"Shaf on Dash!" said Liza, taking a step or two into the room and
securing to that animal his emancipation by giving him a smack that
knocked him out of Robbie's hands. "Do you think I've come here to see
your tipsy games?"

Robbie responded to this inquiry by asking with provoking good nature
if she had not rather come to give him a token of her love.

"Give us a kiss, lass," he said, getting up to his feet and extending
his arms to help himself.

Liza gave him something instead, but it produced a somewhat louder and
smarter percussion.

"What a whang over the lug she brong him!" said Reuben, turning to the
schoolmaster.

"I reckon it's mair wind ner wool, like clippin' a swine," said
Matthew Branthwaite, who entered the inn at this juncture.

Robbie's good humor was as radiant as ever. "A kiss for a blow," he
said, laughing and struggling with the little woman. "It's a Christian
virtue, eh, father?"

"Ye'll not get many of them, at that rate," answered Mattha, less than
half pleased at an event which he could not comprehend. "It's slow
wark su