"Truth is," she replied, "I dinna greatly like stage-plays. John Blower, honest man, as sailors are aye for some spree or another, wad take me ance to see ane Mrs. Siddons--I thought we should hae been crushed to death before we gat in--a' my things riven aff my back, forby the four lily-white shillings that it cost us--and then in came three frightsome carlines wi' besoms, and they wad bewitch a sailor's wife--I was lang eneugh there--and out I wad be, and out John Blower gat me, but wi' nae sma' fight and fend.--My Lady Penelope Penfitter, and the great folk, may just take it as they like; but in my mind, Dr. Cacklehen, it's a mere blasphemy for folk to gar themselves look otherwise than their Maker made them; and then the changing the name which was given them at baptism, is, I think, an awful falling away from our vows; and though Thisby, which I take to be Greek for Tibbie, may be a very good name, yet Margaret was I christened, and Margaret will I die." "You mistake the matter entirely, my dear Mrs. Blower," said the Doctor; "there is nothing serious intended--a mere _placebo_--just a divertisement to cheer the spirits, and assist the effect of the waters--cheerfulness is a great promoter of health." "Dinna tell me o' health, Dr. Kittlepin!--Can it be for the puir body M'Durk's health to major about in the tartans like a tobacconist's sign in a frosty morning, wi' his poor wizzened houghs as blue as a blawort?--weel I wot he is a humbling spectacle. Or can it gie ony body health or pleasure either to see your ainsell, Doctor, ganging about wi' a claise screen tied to your back, covered wi' paper, and painted like a stane and lime wa'?--I'll gang to see nane o' their vanities, Dr. Kittlehen; and if there is nae other decent body to take care o' me, as I dinna like to sit a haill afternoon by mysell, I'll e'en gae doun to Mr. Sowerbrowst the maltster's--he is a pleasant, sensible man, and a sponsible man in the world, and his sister's a very decent woman." "Confound Sowerbrowst," thought the Doctor; "if I had guessed he was to come across me thus, he should not have got the better of his dyspepsy so early.--My dear Mrs. Blower," he continued, but aloud, "it is a foolish affair enough, I must confess; but every person of style and fashion at the Well has settled to attend this exhibition; there has been nothing else talked of for this month through the whole country, and it will be a year before it is forgotten. And I would have you consider how ill it will look, my dear Mrs. Blower, to stay away--nobody will believe you had a card--no, not though you were to hang it round your neck like a label round a vial of tincture, Mrs. Blower."