LD BRODIE. Oh!

LAWSON. See, ye're hurting your faither's hand.

BRODIE. Dear dad, it is not good to have an ill-tempered son.

LAWSON. What the deevil ails ye at the match? 'Od man, he has a nice bit
divot o' Fife corn-land, I can tell ye, and some Bordeaux wine in his
cellar! But I needna speak o' the Bordeaux; ye'll ken the smack o't as
weel's I do mysel'; onyway it's grand wine. _Tantum et tale._ I tell ye
the _pro's_, find you the _con.'s_, if ye're able.

BRODIE. (I am sorry, Procurator, but I must be short with you.) You are
talking in the air, as lawyers will. I prefer to drop the subject (and
it will displease me if you return to it in my hearing).

LESLIE. At four o'clock to-morrow? At my house? (_To MARY._)

MARY. As soon as church is done. (_Exit MARY._)

LAWSON. Ye needna be sae high and mighty, onyway.

BRODIE. I ask your pardon, Procurator. But we Brodies--you know our
failings! (A bad temper and a humour of privacy.)

LAWSON. Weel, I maun be about my business. But I could tak' a
doch-an-dorach, William; _superflua non nocent_, as we say; an extra
dram hurts naebody, Mr. Leslie.

BRODIE (_with bottle and glasses_). Here's your old friend, Procurator.
Help yourself, Leslie. O no, thank you, not any for me. You strong
people have the advantage of me there. With my attacks, you know, I must
always live a bit of a hermit's life.

LAWSON. 'Od, man, that's fine; that's health o' mind and body. Mr.
Leslie, here's to you, sir. 'Od, it's harder to end than to begin with
stuff like that.

SCENE III

_To these, SMITH and JEAN, C._

SMITH. Is the king of the castle in, please?

LAWSON (_aside_). Lord's sake, it's Smith!

BRODIE (_to SMITH_). I beg your pardon?

SMITH. I beg yours, sir. If you please, sir, is Mr. Brodie at home, sir?

BRODIE. What do you want with him, my man?

SMITH. I've a message for him, sir; a job of work, sir.

BRODIE (_to SMITH; referring to JEAN_). And who is this?

JEAN. I am here for the Procurator, about my rent. There's nae offence,
I hope, sir.

LAWSON. It's just an honest wife I let a flat to in Libberton's Wynd.
It'll be for the rent?

JEAN. Just that, sir.

LAWSON. Weel, ye can just bide here a wee, and I'll step down the road
to my office wi' ye. (_Exeunt BRODIE, LAWSON, LESLIE, C._)

SCENE IV

SMITH, JEAN WATT, OLD BRODIE

SMITH (_bowing them out_). Your humble and most devoted servant, George
Smith, Esquire. And so this is the garding,