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And therefore let us dismiss before the heart's blood freeze in our veins." "Bravo bravo, neighbour Craigdallie! St. Johnston for ever!" Oliver Proudfute would still have spoken; for he was one of those pitiless orators who think that their eloquence can overcome all inconveniences in time, place, and circumstances.
"Peace, neighbour Proudfute I prithee, peace," said Craigdallie, who was obviously tired of the tuneless screeching of the worthy deacon. "There is something mysterious here," said the bailie; "but I think I spy the secret. Our friend Simon is, as you all know, a peaceful man, and one that will rather sit down with wrong than put a friend, or say a neighbourhood, in danger to seek his redress.
But, alack, Bailie Craigdallie, wine is drunk, comfits are eaten, and the gift is forgotten when the flavour is past away. Alas! neighbour, the banquet of last Christmas is gone like the last year's snow." "But there have been gloves full of gold pieces," said the magistrate.
"But here we come up with the rest of them. Bailie Craigdallie looks angry, but it is not his kind of anger that frightens me."
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