‘A third time she asked the question, and in a more audible key; when he replied, with a kind of suppressed laugh: “There is Mr Nasmyth, north corner of St Andrew Square, a very good dentist; and there is Mr Hutchins, corner of Hanover and George Street.” ‘She requested he would give her their names on a slip of paper. He rose and walked to the table, wrote down both the directions, which he folded and presented to her. ‘She now rose to take leave. The bell was rung, and when the servant entered, his master desired him to see if the Lady Pitlyal’s carriage was at the door. ‘He returned to tell there was no carriage waiting, on which her Ladyship remarked: “This comes of _fore-hand payments_—they make _hint-hand wark_. I gae a hackney-coachman twa shillings to bring me here, and he’s awa’ without me.” ‘There was not a coach within sight, and another had to be sent for from a distant stand of coaches. It was by this time past the hour of dinner, and there seemed no hope of being rid of his visitors. ‘Her Ladyship said she was in no hurry, as they had had tea, and were going to the play, and hoped he would accompany them. He said he had not yet had his dinner. “What is the play to-night?” said she. “It is the _Heart of Midlothian_ again, I believe.” ‘They then talked of the merits of the actors, and she took occasion to tell him that she patronised the _Edinburgh Review_. “We read your buke, sir!” “I am certainly very much obliged to you.” ‘Still no carriage was heard. Another silence ensued, until it bethought her Ladyship to amuse him with the politics of the country. ‘Here the coach was announced, and by the help of her daughter’s arm and her gold-headed cane, she began to move, complaining loudly of a _corny tae_. She was with difficulty got into the coach. The Rosebud stepped lightly after her. ‘The door was closed, and the order given to drive to Gibb’s Hotel, whence they hastened with all speed to Lord Gillies’s, where the party waited dinner for them, and hailed the fulfilment of the “Prophecie of Pitlyal.” ‘Mr Jeffrey, in the meantime, impatient for his dinner, joined the ladies in the drawing-room. “What in the world has detained you?” said Mrs Jeffrey. “One of the most tiresome and oddest old women I ever met with. I thought never to have got rid of her;” and beginning to relate some of the conversation that had taken place, it flashed upon him at once that he had been _taken in_. ‘He ran down-stairs for the letter, hoping it would throw some light upon the subject, but it was only a blank sheet of paper, containing a fee of three guineas. ‘They amused themselves with the relation; but it was not until the day after that he found out who the ladies really were. He laughed heartily, and promised to aid them in any other scene they liked to devise.’ He returned the fee with an amusing characteristic letter, in which he concluded with best wishes for the cure of her Ladyship’s corns.