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I had not been accustomed to drink anything stronger than water, and I was not going to begin now so much of sense I had left in me. So as often as the mighty farmer of Birkenbog had his tankard pointed at the cornice of the commercial room of the King's Arms, I poured the contents of mine carefully among the sawdust on the floor.
As I supposed, it was from Charlotte, and the thinnest and least bulky of her billets that had ever come up these stairs. I handed it across to him, where he sat newly glooming at me. "Open it!" I said. "Since when has Robert Anderson of Birkenbog taken to opening letters addressed to other men?" "Never heed not till this very minute, maybe. Open that one, at any rate!"
"I fear, Birkenbog," I said, "that you have given yourself a bootless journey. From what I suspect, your flown bird will be nested nearer home." "Where?" he cried; "tell me the scoundrel's name." "Fairly and soothly, Birkenbog," said I, "peace is best among near friends not to speak of kinsfolk!" "Aye," said he, "fairly and soothly be it! But I have to ken first that it is fairly and soothly.
Thour't noan shamed, surely! There's no reason for why. At thy age, laddie hout-hout there's no wrong as young folks go. Come thy ways, lad!" Obediently I followed in his wake as he elbowed a way through the crowd, salutations pouring in upon him on every side. "Ah, Birkenbog, what's brought you into the market this day sellin' lambs?" "That's as may be buyin' calves more belike!"
For I was bravely well acquainted with the exigencies of these post-office "keelies." But Birkenbog, who was in good humour at the way he had been done by his daughter, threw a handful of copper "bodles" across the table to Amelia. "There's for the messenger!" he said. And I could see that he looked at the letter when it came with some anxiety.
After all, his daughter's future was only an item in Birkenbog's programme of the day. Now you can go and tell Lottie. Aye, and ye can say to Miss what's her name Thimbolina, the old dowager with the corkscrews with my compliments, that there's a sweet-milk cheese ripening on the dairy shelves for her at Birkenbog. Hear ye that, lad?" I took my leave as best I could.
It had hardly been possible for a pistol-ball to penetrate such an armature, but still the sudden assault from behind, and perhaps some subtle feminine quality in Amelia's screams, made him turn about to see what was happening. The man was Fighting Anderson of Birkenbog himself, and he kept crying, "Where have you hidden her, rascal, thief? I will kill you, villain of a scribbler!
Nevertheless, he had his admirers, some of them fervent as well as constant. Cochrane of the Holm would be there, his hand on the shoulder of Blethering Johnny from the Dinnance. These two always laughed before a word was uttered. They thought Birkenbog so funny that everything he said was side-splitting even before he had said it. I remember being a great deal impressed myself by Old Birkenbog.
I signed, as well as I could, that Mr. Robert Anderson of Birkenbog considered himself as so doing. She clapped her hands and cried out, as if she had stumbled on the solution of some exceedingly difficult problem, "Why, then, take the money and give it to Tom! He needs it for his farm oh, just dreadful.
With such an unruly gang about, I kept Charlotte Anderson well in sight till I saw her safe into Miss Seraphina's. Of course, nobody who knew her for a daughter of Fighting Rob of Birkenbog would have laid hand upon her, but at such a time there might be some who did not know the repute of her father. The great gong in front of the "Funny Folks" booth went "Bang! bang!"
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