Sal tossed her head and made a sound which, though inarticulate, indicated that much might be said upon that subject. She could and she would. Slowly Cleaver's boy extracted from his pocket a neat parcel done up in paper. "Hae, Sal!" he said, going forward to her elbow and offering them to her; "hae, here are some sweeties I fetched ye." They were her favourite brandy-balls, and on a suitable day, with a light wind and strong sun, their perfume carried a quarter of a mile. James had never known them fail of their effect before. But now, with a swift half-turn, Sal snatched them out of his hand and flung them behind the fire. Cleaver's boy stood aghast. They had cost him fourpence-halfpenny at Tam Luke's shop, and would have cost twice as much but for Tam's good offices in the weighing department. "What's wrang wi' the brandy-balls, Sal?" he cried in despair. The like of this had never happened before in his experience. Thus Time works out its revenges. "Did ye get them oot o' an ash-backet?"[4] at last cried Sal, breaking her indignant silence. "No," said innocent James, "I got them at Tam Luke's for fourpence-halfpenny." "So ye say!" returned Sal, who was determined not to be appeased. The brandy-balls were now flaming up the chimney, and fast dissolving into their elements with a sickly smell and a fizzling noise. "Tell us what ye hae against us, Sal; oot wi' it!" said Cleaver's boy, who recognised the great truth that with a woman it is always better to be at the bottom of what she knows, and that at once. "I'm no gaun to keep company wi' ony man that gangs on the nicht shift!" cried Sal, turning with the needles in her hand and stamping her foot. "I'll let ye ken that Sal Mackay thinks mair o' hersel' than that. I hae some pride!" The murder was out. But poor James, who thought that he had done a fine thing in attaining promotion, knew not what to reply. "And what differ does that make, Sal?" asked Cleaver's boy in astonishment. "What differ does it make? Hear to the cuddy! Differ—juist this differ, that ye'll walk oot wi' some dafter lass than Sal Mackay. I hae mair respect for mysel' than to bemean mysel' to gang wi' a nicht-shift man!" "But," said James, "I get far better pay. Think o' that, Sal!" "I'm no carin' for that, when I canna be there when ye spend it," said the mercenary Sal, with, however, commendable straightforwardness. "But I fetched ye the brandy-balls, Sal," persisted the once proud boy of Cleaver's. "Brandy-balls! _That_ for your brandy-balls!" cried Sal, pointing to the fireplace, in which a little blue flame was still burning, at the spot where the Tam Luke's sweetmeats had been so irregularly consumed. "D'ye think that Sal Mackay is to be dependent every nicht on a chap that has to gang on duty at half-past seven?——" "Eight o'clock!" said Cleaver's boy, eagerly.