he better measure, my darling."

So saying, he awaited no reply, lest peradventure the commission with
which he was so hastily and unexpectedly charged, should have been
clogged with some condition of compromise. No such proposal, however,
was made on the part of the doughty Sir Bingo, who eyed his friend as he
hastily snatched up his rattan to depart, with a dogged look of
obstinacy, expressive, to use his own phrase, of a determined resolution
to come up to the scratch; and when he heard the Captain's parting
footsteps, and saw the door shut behind him, he valiantly whistled a few
bars of Jenny Sutton, in token he cared not a farthing how the matter
was to end.

With a swifter pace than his half-pay leisure usually encouraged, or
than his habitual dignity permitted, Captain MacTurk cleared the ground
betwixt the Spring and its gay vicinity, and the ruins of the Aultoun,
where reigned our friend Meg Dods, the sole assertor of its ancient
dignities. To the door of the Cleikum Inn the Captain addressed himself,
as one too much accustomed to war to fear a rough reception; although at
the very first aspect of Meg, who presented her person at the half
opened door, his military experience taught him that his entrance into
the place would, in all probability, be disputed.

"Is Mr. Tyrrel at home?" was the question; and the answer was conveyed,
by the counter-interrogation, "Wha may ye be that speers?"

As the most polite reply to this question, and an indulgence, at the
same time, of his own taciturn disposition, the Captain presented to
Luckie Dods the fifth part of an ordinary playing card, much grimed with
snuff, which bore on its blank side his name and quality. But Luckie
Dods rejected the information thus tendered, with contemptuous scorn.

"Nane of your deil's play-books for me," said she; "it's an ill world
since sic prick-my-dainty doings came in fashion--It's a poor tongue
that canna tell its ain name, and I'll hae nane of your scarts upon
pasteboard."

"I am Captain MacTurk, of the ---- regiment," said the Captain,
disdaining further answer.

"MacTurk?" repeated Meg, with an emphasis, which induced the owner of
the name to reply, "Yes, honest woman--MacTurk--Hector MacTurk--have you
any objections to my name, goodwife?"

"Nae objections have I," answered Meg; "it's e'en an excellent name for
a heathen.--But, Captain MacTurk, since sae it be that ye are a captain,
ye may e'en face about and march your ways