He then
disappeared in the moonlight.
Some words passed after his departure, between
the bailiff, who piqued himself on being a little of
a bully, and Harry Wakefield, who, with generous
inconsistency, was now not indisposed to begin a
new combat in defence of Robin Oig's reputation,
``although he could not use his daddles like an
Englishman, as it did not come natural to him.''
But Dame Heskett prevented this second quarrel
from coming to a head by her peremptory interference.
``There should be no more fighting in her
house,'' she said; ``there had been too much already.
---And you, Mr Wakefield, may live to learn,''
she added, ``what it is to make a deadly enemy out
of a good friend.''
``Pshaw, dame! Robin Oig is an honest fellow,
and will never keep malice.''
``Do not trust to that---you do not know the
dour temper of the Scots, though you have dealt
with them so often. I have a right to know them,
my mother being a Scot.''
``And so is well seen on her daughter,'' said
Ralph Heskett.
This nuptial sarcasm gave the discourse another
turn; fresh customers entered the tap-room or
kitchen, and others left it. The conversation turned
on the expected markets, and the report of
prices from different parts both of Scotland and
England---treaties were commenced, and Harry
Wakefield was lucky enough to find a chap for a
part of his drove, and at a very considerable profit;
an event of consequence more than sufficient
to blot out all remembrances of the unpleasant
scuffle in the earlier part of the day.
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