nybody tell me that a wise counsellor should be
rejected, because she happens to be dressed in petticoats?"

"Yes, Mr Todd, I will tell you that," replied the deacon. "The private
sodger has dootless often a mind superior to the general's; but he
maun still keep the ranks. Mind is naething in this affair--station
is everything. Look at Mrs Margaret Waldie--a cleverer cratur doesna
exist--that is, in her ain way; but did she ever dare to counsel me?
Did she ever presume to sway or alter, in the slightest degree, the
decrees o' my judgment? Na; she has owre muckle respect for the status
and respectability o' her lord and maister. Rouse yersel, Andrew; tak
example by me, man; act as your kind heart prompts in this freendly
affair; and join me in the bond, whereby you'll incur nae danger."

"I am anxious to oblige ye, deacon," said Andrew; "but I scarcely
think it wad be a gratefu part in me to repay a' Mrs Jean Todd's care
o' me for twenty years, by actin, in this affair, upon my ain
individual and responsible judgment. I micht anger her, and she micht
withdraw frae me her countenance and protection: I micht as weel lose
the licht o' the sun. Ye dinna understand me, deacon; ye are made to
command--I to obey. Pressure brings out the power o' the spring; and
a' my happiness in life is produced and brocht out by the weight o'
the judgment and authority o' Mrs Jean Todd. Her very mind seems to
hae passed into mine; and I feel, when I'm thinking her thoughts, a
satisfaction I never feel when my ain are passin, like unbidden
ghaists, through my mind. But surely I hae some excuse: is she no a
noble cratur? How she maks a body shake wi' the sound o' her voice,
and the solidity o' her thoughts! and how beautifully she softens doun
the impression o' her authority, by restorin, wi' a half-severe,
half-kind sort o' a smile, peculiar to hersel, the confidence she
frightened awa by the mere force o' her superior intellect!"

"How beautifully, in short, Andrew," said the deacon, "are you
_henpecked_! That is the very soul and marrow o' a' ye hae uttered."

"Ay; and I glory to be pecked by _such_ a hen!" cried Andrew, with
sparkling eyes, and a real and unsophisticated appearance of triumph.

The deacon, notwithstanding of his anxiety to get the bond signed,
laughed outright at this tremendous sally of the boxmaster's
enthusiasm of servitude; but it was a laugh of derision, and he forgot
that he was himself daily losing more feathers,