The Waverley novels, by Sir Walter Scott, complete in 12 vol., printed from the latest English ed., embracing the author's last corrections, prefaces & notes.

462 WAVERLEY NOVELS.
the proprietor thereof. And as she had raised her mass of mortality out
of bed two hours earlier than usual, to come to the rescue of her clamorous
niece, she was in such extreme bad humour against all and sundry, that
Saddletree would have pronounced, that she harboured inimicitiacm, contra
omnes mortales.
"Wha the deil are ye?" said the fat dame to poor Jeanie, whom she did
not immediately recognize, " scouping about a decent house at sic an hour
in the morning?"
"It was ane wanting to speak to the Laird," said Jeanie, who felt
something of the intuitive terror which she had formerly entertained for
this termagant, when she was occasionally at Dumbiedikes on business of
her father's.
"Ane!-And what sort of ane are ye?- hae ye nae name?-D'ye think
his honour has naething else to do than to speak wi' ilka idle tramper that
comes about the town, and him in his bed yet, honest man?"
"' Dear —Mrs. Balchristie," replied Jeanie, in a submissive tone, " d'ye no
mind me?- d'ye no mind Jeanie Deans?"
"Jeanie Deans!" said the termagant, in accents affecting the utmost
astonishment; then, taking two. strides nearer to her, she peered into her
face with a stare of curiosity, equally scornful and malignant-" I say Jeanie
Deans indeed-Jeanie Deevil, they had better hae ca'ed ye!-A bonny spot
o' wark your tittie and you hae made out, murdering ae puir wean, and your
light limmer of a sister's to be hanged for't, as weel she deserves!-And the
like o' you to come to ony honest man's house, and want to be in to a decent
bachelor gentleman's room at this time in the morning, and him in his bed!
-Gae wa', gae wa' i"
Jeanie was struck mute with shame at the unfeeling brutality of this
accusation, and could not even find words to justify herself from the vile
construction put upon her visit. When Mrs. Balchristie; seeing her advantage, continued in the same tone, " Come, come, bundle up your pipes and
tramp awa wi' ye! - ye may be seeking a father to another wean for ony
thing I ken. If it warna that your father, auld David Deans, had been a
tenant on our land, I would cry up the men-folk, and hae ye dookit in the
burn for your impudence."
Jeanie had already turned her back, and was walking towards the door
of the court-yard, so that Mrs. Balchristie, to make her last threat impressively audible to her, had raised her stentorian voice to its utmost pitch.
But, like many a general, she lost the engagement by pressing her advantage too far.
The Laird had been disturbed in his morning slumbers by the tones of
*Mrs. Balchristie's objurgation, sounds in themselves by no means uncommon, but very remarkable, in respect to the early hour at which they were
now heard. He turned himself on the other side, however, in hopes the
squall would blow by, when in the course of Mrs. Balchristie's second
explosion of wrath, the name of Deans distinctly struck the tympanum of
his ear. As he was, in some degree, aware of the small portion of benevolence with which his housekeeper regarded the family at Saint Leonard's,
he instantly conceived that some message from thence was the cause of this
untimely ire, and getting out of his bed, he slipt as speedily as possible into
an old brocaded night-gown, and some other necessary garments, clapped on
his head his father's gold-laced hat, (for though he was seldom seen without
it, yet it is proper to contradict the popular report, that he slept in it, as
Don Quixote did in his helmet,) and opening the window of his bedroom,
beheld, to his great astonishment, the well-known figure of Jeanie Deans
herself retreating from his gate; while his housekeeper, with arms a-kimbo,
fist clenched and extended, body erect, and head shaking with rage, sent
after her a volley of Billingsgate oaths. His choler rose in proportion to the
surprise, and, perhaps, to the disturbance of his repose. "IHark ye," he