Here Lord Ipsden, after a word to Lady Barbara, the answer to which did not appear to be favorable, rose, gave a little yawn, looked steadily at his companions without seeing them, and departed without seeming aware that he was leaving anybody behind him.
_Hither._ "Let us go somewhere where we can quiz the natives without being too near them."
_Lady Bar._ "I am tired of this unbroken solitude, I must go and think to the sea," added she, in a mock soliloquy; and out she glided with the same unconscious air as his lordship had worn.
The others moved off slowly together.
"Mamma," said Miss Vere," I can't understand half Barbara Sinclair says."
"It is not necessary, my love," replied mamma; "she is rather eccentric, and I fear she is spoiling Lord Ipsden."
"Poor Lord Ipsden," murmured the lovely Vere, "he used to be so nice, and do like everybody else. Mamma, I shall bring some work the next time."
"Do, my love."
PICNIC NO. 2.
In a house, two hundred yards from this scene, a merry dance, succeeding a merry song, had ended, and they were in the midst of an interesting story; Christie Johnstone was the narrator. She had found the tale in one of the viscount's books--it had made a great impression on her.
The rest were listening intently. In a room which had lately been all noise, not a sound was now to be heard but the narrator's voice.
"Aweel, lasses, here are the three wee kists set, the lads are to chuse--the ane that chuses reicht is to get Porsha, an' the lave to get the bag, and dee baitchelars--Flucker Johnstone, you that's sae clever--are ye for gowd, or siller, or leed?"
_1st Fishwife._ "Gowd for me!"
_2d ditto._ "The white siller's my taste."
_Flucker._ "Na! there's aye some deevelish trick in thir lassie's stories. I shall ha to, till the ither lads hae chused; the mair part will put themsels oot, ane will hit it off reicht maybe, then I shall gie him a hidin' an' carry off the lass. You-hoo!"
_Jean Carnie._ "That's you, Flucker."
_Christie Johnstone._ "And div ye really think we are gawn to let you see a' the world chuse? Na, lad, ye are putten oot o' the room, like witnesses."
_Flucker._ "Then I'd toss a penny; for gien ye trust to luck, she whiles favors ye, but gien ye commence to reason and argefy--ye're done!"
_Christie._ "The suitors had na your wit, my manny, or maybe they had na a penny to toss, sae ane chused the gowd, ane the siller; but they got an awfu' affront. The gold kist had just a skull intil't, and the siller a deed cuddy's head!"
_Chorus of Females._ "He! he! he!"
_Ditto of Males._ "Haw! haw! haw! haw! Ho!"
_Christie._ "An' Porsha puttit the pair of gowks to the door. Then came Bassanio, the lad fra Veeneece, that Porsha loed in secret. Veeneece, lasses, is a wonderful city; the streets o' 't are water, and the carriages are boats--that's in Chambers'."
_Flucker._ "Wha are ye making a fool o'?"
_Christie._ "What's wrang?"
_Flucker._ "Yon's just as big a lee as ever I heerd."
The words were scarcely out of his mouth ere he had reason to regret them; a severe box on the ear was administered by his indignant sister.
Nobody pitied him.
_Christie._ "I'll laern yet' affront me before a' the company."
_Jean Carnie._ "Suppose it's a lee, there's nae silver to pay for it, Flucker."
_Christie._ "Jean, I never telt a lee in a' my days."
_Jean._ "There's ane to begin wi' then. Go ahead, Custy."
_Christie._ "She bade the music play for him, for music brightens thoucht; ony way, he chose the leed kist. Open'st and wasn't there Porsha's pictur, and a posy, that said:
'If you be well pleased with this, And hold your fortune for your bliss;
Turn you where your leddy iss, And greet her wi' a loving--"' _(Pause)._
"Kess," roared the company.
_Chorus, led by Flucker._ "Hurraih!"
_Christie (pathetically)._ "Flucker, behave!"
_Sandy Liston (drunk)._ "Hur-raih!" He then solemnly reflected. "Na! but it's na hurraih, decency requires amen first an' hurraih afterward; here's kissin plenty, but I hear nae word o' the minister. Ye'll obsairve, young woman, that kissin's the prologue to sin, and I'm a decent mon, an' a gray-headed mon, an' your licht stories are no for me; sae if the minister's no expeckit I shall retire--an' tak my quiet gill my lane."
_Jean Carnie._ "And div ye really think a decent cummer like Custy wad let the lad and lass misbehave thirsels? Na! lad, the minister's at the door, but" (sinking her voice to a confidential whisper) "I daurna let him in, for fear he'd see ye hae putten the enemy in your mooth sae aerly. (That's Custy's word.)"
"Jemmy Drysel," replied Sandy, addressing vacancy, for Jemmy was mysteriously at work in the kitchen, "ye hae gotten a thoughtfu' wife."
(Then, with a strong revulsion of feeling.) "Dinna let the blackguard* in here," cried he, "to spoil the young folk's sporrt."
* At present this is a spondee in England--a trochee in Scotland The pronunciation of this important word ought to be fixed, representing, as it does, so large a portion of the community in both countries.
_Christie._ "Aweel, lassies, comes a letter to Bassanio; he reads it, and turns as pale as deeth."
_A Fishwife._ "Gude help us."
_Christie._ "Poorsha behooved to ken his grief, wha had a better reicht?
'Here's a letter, leddy,' says he, 'the paper's the boedy of my freend, like, and every word in it a gaping wound.'"
_A Fisherman._ "Maircy on us."
_Christie._ "Lad, it was fra puir Antonio, ye mind o' him, Lasses. Hech! the ill luck o' yon man, no a ship come hame; ane foundered at sea, coming fra Tri-po-lis; the pirates scuttled another, an' ane ran ashore on the Goodwins, near Bright-helm-stane, that's in England itsel', I daur say. Sae he could na pay the three thoosand ducats, an' Shylock had grippit him, an' sought the pund o' flesh aff the breest o' him, puir body."
_Sandy Liston._ "He would na be the waur o' a wee bit hiding, yon thundering urang-utang; let the man alane, ye cursed old cannibal."
