The young man relieved his anxiety, by telling him the coach had not yet appeared. The old gentleman, apparently conscious of his own want of punctuality, did not at first feel courageous enough to censure that of the coachman. He took a parcel, containing apparently a large folio, from a little boy who followed him, and, patting him on the head, bid him go back and tell Mr. B----, that if he had known he was to have had so much time, he would have put another word or two to their bargain,--then told the boy to mind his business, and he would be as thriving a lad as ever dusted a duodecimo. The boy lingered, perhaps in hopes of a penny to buy marbles; but none was forthcoming. Our senior leaned his little bundle upon one of the posts at the head of the staircase, and, facing the traveller who had first arrived, waited in silence for about five minutes the arrival of the expected diligence. At length, after one or two impatient glances at the progress of the minute-hand of the clock, having compared it with his own watch, a huge and antique gold repeater, and having twitched about his features to give due emphasis to one or two peevish pshaws, he hailed the old lady of the cavern. “Good woman,--what the d--l is her name?--Mrs. Macleuchar!” Mrs. Macleuchar, aware that she had a defensive part to sustain in the encounter which was to follow, was in no hurry to hasten the discussion by returning a ready answer. “Mrs. Macleuchar,--Good woman” (with an elevated voice)--then apart, “Old doited hag, she’s as deaf as a post--I say, Mrs. Macleuchar!” “I am just serving a customer.--Indeed, hinny, it will no be a bodle cheaper than I tell ye.” “Woman,” reiterated the traveller, “do you think we can stand here all day till you have cheated that poor servant wench out of her half-year’s fee and bountith?” “Cheated!” retorted Mrs. Macleuchar, eager to take up the quarrel upon a defensible ground; “I scorn your words, sir: you are an uncivil person, and I desire you will not stand there, to slander me at my ain stair-head.” “The woman,” said the senior, looking with an arch glance at his destined travelling companion, “does not understand the words of action.--Woman,” again turning to the vault, “I arraign not thy character, but I desire to know what is become of thy coach?” “What’s your wull?” answered Mrs. Macleuchar, relapsing into deafness. “We have taken places, ma’am,” said the younger stranger, “in your diligence for Queensferry”--“Which should have been half-way on the road before now,” continued the elder and more impatient traveller, rising in wrath as he spoke: “and now in all likelihood we shall miss the tide, and I have business of importance on the other side--and your cursed coach”-- “The coach?--Gude guide us, gentlemen, is it no on the stand yet?” answered the old lady, her shrill tone of expostulation sinking into a kind of apologetic whine. “Is it the coach ye hae been waiting for?”