Something at a distance appeared to attract the attention of the
unhappy woman, and she flew away. Hamish and Mr. Harper were left alone
in the streets, the latter still exploding with wrath, and vowing all
sorts of revenge.

"Put up with it quietly, Harper," advised Hamish. "She is like a little
child, not accountable for her actions."

"That's just like you, Mr. Hamish Channing. If they took your head off,
you'd put up with it! How would you like your wig flung away in the
sight of a whole street?"

"I don't wear one," answered Hamish, laughing. "Here's your hat; not
much damaged, apparently."

Mr. Harper, settling his wig on his head, and composing himself as he
best could, continued his way to the cathedral, turning his hat about
in his hand, and closely looking at it. Hamish stepped across to Mr.
Galloway's, meeting that gentleman at the door.

"A good thing you came up as you did, Mr. Hamish. Harper will remember
Mad Nance for a year to come."

"I expect he will," replied Hamish, laughing still. Mr. Galloway
laughed also, and walked hastily down the street.