‘Indeed, Leddy,’ said the Laird of Dirdumwhamle, when she told him of the detection, as she called it, of Robina’s notion of his son—‘Blood ye ken’s thicker than water; and I have na been without a thought mysel that there was something by the common o’ cousinship atween them. But hearing, as we often a’ have done, of the great instancy that my gude-brother was in for a match tweesh her and James, I could na think of making mysel an interloper. But if it’s ordaint that she prefers Walky, I’m sure I can see nae harm in you and me giving the twa young things a bit canny shove onward in the road to a blithesome bridal.’

‘I am thinking,’ rejoined his wife, ‘that, perhaps, it might be as prudent and more friendly to wait the upshot o’ her father’s endeavours wi’ James,—for even although he should be worked into a compliancy, still there will be no marriage, and then Robina can avow her partiality for Walky.’

‘Meg,’ replied the Leddy, ‘ye speak as one of the foolish women—ye ken naething about it; your brother Geordie’s just his father’s ain gett, and winna be put off frae his intents by a’ the powers of law and government—let him ance get Jamie to conform, and he’ll soon thraw Beenie into an obedience, and what will then become o’ your Walky?—Na, na, Dirdumwhamle, heed her not, she lacketh understanding—it’s you and me, Laird, that maun work the wherry in this breeze—ye’re a man o’ experience in the ways o’ matrimony, having been, as we all know, thrice married,—and I am an aged woman, that has na travelled the world for sax-and-seventy years without hearing the toast o’ “Love and opportunity”. Now, have na we the love ready-made to our hands in the fond affection of Beenie and Walky?—and surely neither o’ us is in such a beggary o’ capacity, that we’re no able to conceit a time and place for an opportunity. Had it been, as I had at ae time this very day, a kind of a because to jealouse, I’ll no say what—it was my purpose to hae sent for a minister or a magistrate, and got an unregular marriage declared outright—though it would hae gi’en us a’ het hearts and red faces for liveries. Noo, Laird, ye’re a man o’ sagacity and judgement, dinna ye think, though we hae na just sic an exploit to break our hearts wi’ shame and tribulation, that we might ettle at something o’ the same sort?—and there can be no sin in’t, Meg; for is’t no commanded in Scripture to increase and multiply? and what we are wis’ing to bring about is a purpose o’ marriage, which is the natural way o’ plenishing the earth, and raising an increase o’ the children of men.’

Much and devoutly as the Laird of Dirdumwhamle wished for such a consummation, he was not quite prepared for proceedings of so sudden and hasty a character. And being a personage of some worldly prudence, eagerly as he longed for the match, he was averse to expose himself to any strictures for the part he might take in promoting it. Accordingly, instead of acquiescing at once in his mother-in-law’s suggestion, he said jocularly,

‘Hooly, hooly, Leddy; it may come vera weel off Walky and Robina’s hands to make a private marriage for themselves, poor young things, but it never will do for the like o’ you and me to mess or mell in the matter, by ony open countenancing o’ a ceremony. It’s vera true that I see nae objection to the match, and would think I did nae ill in the way o’ a quiet conneevance to help them on in their courtship, but things are no ripe for an affhand ploy.’

‘I’m glad to hear you say sae,’ interposed Mrs. Milrookit; ‘for really my mother seems fey about this connection; and nae gude can come o’ ony thing sae rashly devised. My brother would, in my opinion, have great cause to complain, were the gudeman to be art or part in ony such conspiracy.’

The Leddy never liked to have her judgement called in question; (indeed, what ladies do?) and still less by a person so much her inferior in point of understanding (so she herself thought) as her daughter.

‘My word, Meg,’ was her reply, ‘but t’ou has a stock o’ impudence, to haud up thy snout in that gait to the she that bore thee.—Am I one of these that hae, by reason of more strength, amaist attain’t to the age of fourscore, without learning the right frae the wrang o’ a’ moral conduct, as that delightful man, Dr. Pringle o’ Garnock, said in his sermon on the Fast Day, when he preached in the Wynd Kirk, that t’ou has the spirit o’ sedition, to tell me that I hae lost my solid judgement, when I’m labouring in the vineyard o’ thy family?—Dirdumwhamle, your wife there, she’s my dochter, and sorry am I to say’t, but it’s well known, and I dinna misdoot ye hae found it to your cost, that she is a most unreasonable, narrow, contracted woman, and wi’ a’ her ’conomical throughgality—her direction-books to mak grozette wine for deil-be-lickit, and her Katy Fisher’s cookery, whereby she would gar us trow she can mak fat kail o’ chucky stanes and an auld horse shoe—we a’ ken, and ye ken, Laird, warst o’ a’, that she flings away the peas, and maks her hotch-potch wi’ the shawps, or, as the auld bye-word says, tynes bottles gathering straes. So what need the like o’ you and me sit in council, and the Shanedrims of the people, wi’ ane o’ the stupidest bawkie birds that e’er the Maker o’t took the trouble to put the breath o’ life in? Fey, did ye say?—that’s a word o’ discretion to fling at the head o’ your aged parent. Howsever, it’s no worth my condescendence to lose my temper wi’ the like o’ her. But, Meg Walkinshaw, or Mrs. Milrookit, though ye be there afore your gudeman, the next time ye diminish my understanding, I’ll may be let ye ken what it is to blaspheme your mother, so tak heed lest ye fall. And now to wind up the thread o’ what we were discoursing anent—It’s my opinion, Dirdumwhamle, we should put no molestation in the way o’ that purpose o’ marriage. So, if ye dinna like to tell your son to gang for a minister, I’ll do it mysel; and the sooner it’s by hand and awa, as the sang sings, the sooner we’ll a’ be in a situation to covenant and ’gree again wi’ Beenie’s father.’

The Laird was delighted to see the haste and heartiness with which the Leddy was resolved to consummate the match; but he said,—

‘Do as ye like, Leddy—do as ye like; but I’ll no coom my fingers wi’ meddling in ony sic project. The wark be a’ your ain.’

‘Surely neither you nor that unreverent and misleart tumphy your wife, our Meg, would refuse to be present at the occasion?’

‘’Deed, Leddy, I’m unco sweert; I’ll no deny that,’ replied Dirdumwhamle.

‘If it is to take place this day, and in this house, gudeman, I’m sure it will be ill put on blateness, both on your part and mine, no to be present,’ said Mrs. Milrookit.

‘Noo, that’s a word o’ sense, Meg,’ cried her mother, exultingly; ‘that’s something like the sagacity o’ a Christian parent. Surely it would be a most Pagan-like thing, for the father and mother o’ the bridegroom to be in the house, to ken o’ what was going on, and, fidging fain, as ye baith are, for the comfort it’s to bring to us a’, to sit in another room wi’ a cloud on your brows, and your hands in a mournful posture. Awa, awa, Dirdumwhamle, wi’ the like o’ that; I hae nae brow o’ sic worldly hypocrisy. But we hae nae time to lose, for your gude-brother will soon be back frae Camrachle, and I would fain hae a’ o’er before he comes. Hech, sirs! but it will be a sport if we can get him to be present at the wedding-dinner, and he ken naething about it. So I’ll just send the lass at ance for Dr. De’ilfear; for it’s a great thing, ye ken, to get a bridal blessed wi’ the breath o’ a sound orthodox; and I’ll gae ben and tell Beenie and Walky, that they maun mak some sort o’ a preparation.’

‘But, when they are married, what’s to become o’ them?—where are they to bide?—and what hae they to live upon?’—said Mrs. Milrookit, anxiously.

‘Dinna ye fash your head, Meg,’ said her mother, ‘about ony sic trivialities. They can stay wi’ me till after the reconciliation, when, nae doot, her father will alloo a genteel aliment; so we need na vex oursels about taking thought for to-morrow; sufficient for the day is the evil thereof. But ye hae bonny gooses and a’ manner o’ poultry at the Dirdumwhamle. So, as we’ll need something to keep the banes green, ye may just send us a tasting; na, for that matter, we’ll no cast out wi’ the like o’ a sooking grumphie; or, if ye were chancing to kill a sheep, a side o’ mutton’s worth house-room; and butter and eggs,—I’m no a novice, as the Renfrew Doctor said,—butter and eggs may dine a provice, wi’ the help o’ bread for kitchen.’

In concluding this speech, the Leddy, who had, in the meantime, risen, gave a joyous geck with her head, and swept triumphantly out of the room.