e a proper sorting to yon twa silly jauds that gard me mak a bogle of
you, and a fule of mysell--Ghaists! my certie, I sall ghaist them--If
they had their heads as muckle on their wark as on their daffing, they
wad play nae sic pliskies--it's the wanton steed that scaurs at the
windle-strae--Ghaists! wha e'er heard of ghaists in an honest house?
Naebody need fear bogles that has a conscience void of offence.--But I
am blithe that MacTurk hasna murdered ye when a' is done, Maister
Francie."

"Come this way, Mother Dods, if you would not have me do a mischief!"
exclaimed Touchwood, grasping a plate which stood on the dresser, as if
he were about to heave it at the landlady, by way of recalling her
attention.

"For the love of Heaven, dinna break it!" exclaimed the alarmed
landlady, knowing that Touchwood's effervescence of impatience sometimes
expended itself at the expense of her crockery, though it was afterwards
liberally atoned for. "Lord, sir, are ye out of your wits!--it breaks a
set, ye ken--Godsake, put doun the cheeny plate, and try your hand on
the delf-ware!--it will just make as good a jingle--But, Lord haud a
grip o' us! now I look at ye, what can hae come ower ye, and what sort
of a plight are ye in!--Wait till I fetch water and a towel."

In fact, the miserable guise of her new lodger now overcame the dame's
curiosity to enquire after the fate of her earlier acquaintance, and she
gave her instant and exclusive attention to Mr. Touchwood, with many
exclamations, while aiding him to perform the task of ablution and
abstersion. Her two fugitive handmaidens had by this time returned to
the kitchen, and endeavoured to suppress a smuggled laugh at the
recollection of their mistress's panic, by acting very officiously in
Mr. Touchwood's service. By dint of washing and drying, the token of the
sable stains was at length removed, and the veteran became, with some
difficulty, satisfied that he had been more dirtied and frightened than
hurt.

Tyrrel, in the meantime, stood looking on with wonder, imagining that he
beheld in the features which emerged from a mask of mud, the countenance
of an old friend. After the operation was ended, he could not help
addressing himself to Mr. Touchwood, to demand whether he had not the
pleasure to see a friend, to whom he had been obliged when at Smyrna,
for some kindness respecting his money matters?

"Not worth speaking of--not worth speaking of," said Touchwood, hastily.
"Gl