said the minister, not guiltless of subterfuge.

"An' what's my chop but my hoose? Haith! my hoose wad be o' fell
sma' consideration wantin' the chop. Tak ye heed o' beirin' fause
witness, sir."

"I said nothing, and know nothing, against yours more than any other
shop for the sale of drink in my parish."

"The Lord's my shepherd! Wad ye even (compare) my hoose to Jock
Thamson's or Jeemie Deuk's, baith i' this perris?"

"My good woman, -- "

"Naither better nor waur nor my neepers," interrupted Mistress
Croale, forgetting what she had just implied: "a body maun live."

"There are limits even to that most generally accepted of all
principles," returned Mr. Sclater; "and I give you fair warning that
I mean to do what I can to shut up all such houses as yours in my
parish. I tell you of it, not from the least hope that you will
anticipate me by closing, but merely that no one may say I did
anything in an underhand fashion."

The calmness with which he uttered the threat alarmed Mistress
Croale. He might rouse unmerited suspicion, and cause her much
trouble by vexatious complaint, even to the peril of her license.
She must take heed, and not irritate her enemy. Instantly,
therefore, she changed her tone to one of expostulation.