save her from bumping
against the iron, requires no particular description. She was dressed
in very gay-coloured clothes--had a vast quantity of different-hued
ribbons floating like meteors on the troubled air--from the top and
both sides of her bonnet; while a glistening pink silk cloak was in
correct keeping with a pair of expansive cheeks, where the roses had
very much the upperhand of the lilies. While Mistress Wilson, the
respectable landlady of the posting-house, was busy giving orders
about the horses, a carriage was heard coming down the hill at a
prodigious rate, and, with a sort of prophetic spirit, the old woman
knew in an instant that four horses more would be required; and then
she recollected as instantaneously that there would only be one pair
in the stable. Under these circumstances, she went directly to the
door of the plain chariot, whose inmates still showed no signs of
animation, and tried to set their minds at rest as to the further
prosecution of their journey--though, as they had no knowledge of the
possibility of any difficulty arising, they had never entertained any
anxiety on the subject.

"Dinna be fleyed, my bonny burdy," she said, addressing the
unbonnetted young lady, who was still apparently dozing in the corner.
"Ye sal hae the twa best greys in Fussie stables; they'll trot ye in
in little mair than an hour; an' the ither folk maun just be doin' wi'
a pair, as their betters hae dune afore them."

The young lady started up in surprise, and looked on the shrewd
intelligent features of the well-known Meg Dods, without understanding
a syllable of her address.

"Haena ye got a tongue i' yer head, for a' ye're sae bonny?" continued
the rather uncomplimentary landlady--"maybe the auld wife i' the
corner'll hae mair sense. Hear ye what I said? ye sall hae the twa
greys--and Jock Brown to drive them; steady brutes a' the three, an'
very quick on the road."

The elder lady gazed with lack-lustre eyes upon the announcer of these
glad tidings.

"Greys, did you say?" she asked, catching at the only words she had
understood in the address.

"Yes, did I. An' ye dinna seem over thankful for the same. I tell ye,
if ye hadna a woman o' her word to deal wi', ye wad likely hae nae
horses ava';--for here comes ane o' the things thae English idewuts
ca's a dug-cart that they come doon wi', filled inside an' out wi'
men, and dugs, an' guns--a' hurryin' aff to the muirs, an' neither to
haud nor bind if