ready answer would be, 'Go to your provost, you borrel loons.'
So, neighbours and townsmen, if you will stand by my side, I and
our pottingar Dwining will repair presently to Kinfauns, with Sim
Glover, the jolly smith, and gallant Oliver Proudfute, for witnesses
to the onslaught, and speak with Sir Patrick Charteris, in name of
the fair town."

"Nay," said the peaceful man of medicine, "leave me behind, I pray
you: I lack audacity to speak before a belted knight."

"Never regard that, neighbour, you must go," said Bailie Craigdallie.
"The town hold me a hot headed carle for a man of threescore; Sim
Glover is the offended party; we all know that Harry Gow spoils
more harness with his sword than he makes with his hammer and our
neighbour Proudfute, who, take his own word, is at the beginning
and end of every fray in Perth, is of course a man of action. We
must have at least one advocate amongst us for peace and quietness;
and thou, pottingar, must be the man. Away with you, sirs, get your
boots and your beasts--horse and hattock, I say, and let us meet
at the East Port; that is, if it is your pleasure, neighbours, to
trust us with the matter."

"There can be no better rede, and we will all avouch it," said the
citizens. "If the provost take our part, as the Fair Town hath a
right to expect, we may bell the cat with the best of them."

"It is well, then, neighbours," answered the bailie; "so said,
so shall be done. Meanwhile, I have called the whole town council
together about this hour, and I have little doubt," looking around
the company, "that, as so many of them who are in this place have