'I see little signs o' the _gentleman!_ Stappin' richt in ower o' my house, an' never wi' yer leave, gude wife,' an' just settin' himsel' down, an' syne t'ey preaching'! Wad ye daar noo, my birkie, to stap that gate intil my Leddy Drysdale's parlour? I'm no thinkin' 't! Do ye think a puir body maun aye be like a cadger's tike, 'at ilka gowk can gie the ither kick til? An' then ne'er venture to bite? Gin I had mair siller, ye wad tak mair tent! An' as for my dochter, just mind what ye're after! gin ye daar say an ill word o' her I'se hae ye up afore the Shirra, an' I'se hae there twa freends o' yours for witnesses against ye. I hae some notion o' the ill tales they hae been tellin' through the glen, an' I'se gar them swear afore the Shirra against ye for the very tales they hae telled ye themsel's, sae tak ye tent! Them 'at lie doon wi' dugs, rise up wi' fleas! An' it's little worth company ye hae been keepin', for a' their holy sough an' their lang faces. They'll rin round spyin' an' keekin' intil ilka kale-pat but their ain. (It's no in Mig Prittie's kale-pat 'at Ebenezer there daar stick his neb, I'm thinkin'). An' syne they rin round wi' a curran clashes, swallin' ilka gowk's head wi' their clavers. But gin they dinna gie ower prankin' wi' my gude name an', my dochter's, I'se gie them something they're no lookin' for, an' they'll wuss they had steiket their jaws afore they meddled wi' Tibbie Tirpie!' Wull ye no' whisht, an' hear til the man o' God? ye rantin' auld tinkler!' cried Peter. 'Ye hae a tongue 'at wad clip clouts!' An' ye hae a conscience like a mill-door, for a' yer whingin',' retorted Tibbie, grown louder at the interruption. It wad set yer man o' God better nor bautherin' a puir auld wife, gin he wad dale wi' _you_. Wi' yer saul, I mean, for he'll better leave the shop alane. Echtpence the pund for saand frae the burn-side, is ower dear to pay, an' I hae coosten the last sugar at echtpence I gat frae ye t'ey hens! It's no fit meat for christian folk!' 'Ye jad! But whaur gat _ye_ the siller to be buyin' sugar? That's just what we're comin' til!' 'I cam by't honest, an' that's mair nor ye can say for yer pose e'y savin's bank.' 'It was the waages o' sin, Tibbie, yon siller! an' that ye ken.' 'I tak you twa men to witness, what Peter Malloch has said! an' I'se hae the law o' him! An' there's plenty witness e'y glen forby, whan the time comes!' 'Alas! alas! poor woman!' cried Mr. Geddie, 'you are sinning with the high hand and brazening out your iniquity. Confession would better become you, and repentance, and public penitence before the church, for the public scandal you have brought on it.'