There are laws against striking princes," said the smith: "best not handle the horseshoe till it cools.
All is hushed up now." "If this be so," said Oliver, partly disconcerted, but still more relieved, by the intelligence he received from his better informed friend, "I have reason to complain of Sir Patrick Charteris for jesting with the honour of an honest burgess, being, as he is, provost of our town." "Do, Oliver; challenge him to the field, and he will bid his yeoman loose his dogs on thee.

But come, night wears apace, will you be shogging ?" "Nay, I had one word more to say to thee, good gossip.

But first, another cup of your cold ale." "Pest on thee for a fool! Thou makest me wish thee where told liquors are a scarce commodity.

There, swill the barrelful an thou wilt." Oliver took the second flagon, but drank, or rather seemed to drink, very slowly, in order to gain time for considering how he should introduce his second subject of conversation, which seemed rather delicate for the smith's present state of irritability.

At length, nothing better occurred to him than to plunge into the subject at once, with, "I have seen Simon Glover today, gossip." "Well," said the smith, in a low, deep, and stern tone of voice, "and if thou hast, what is that to me ?" "Nothing--nothing," answered the appalled bonnet maker.