In short, this fellow (laying his hand on his purse); who, thou knowest, father, was somewhat lank and low in condition when I set out four months since, is now as round and full as a six weeks' porker." "And that other leathern sheathed, iron hilted fellow who hangs beside him," said the glover, "has he been idle all this while?
Come, jolly smith, confess the truth--how many brawls hast thou had since crossing the Tay ?" "Nay, now you do me wrong, father, to ask me such a question (glancing a look at Catharine) in such a presence," answered the armourer: "I make swords, indeed, but I leave it to other people to use them.

No--no, seldom have I a naked sword in my fist, save when I am turning them on the anvil or grindstone; and they slandered me to your daughter Catharine, that led her to suspect the quietest burgess in Perth of being a brawler.

I wish the best of them would dare say such a word at the Hill of Kinnoul, and never a man on the green but he and I." "Ay--ay," said the glover, laughing, "we should then have a fine sample of your patient sufferance.

Out upon you, Henry, that you will speak so like a knave to one who knows thee so well! You look at Kate, too, as if she did not know that a man in this country must make his hand keep his head, unless he will sleep in slender security.

Come--come, beshrew me if thou hast not spoiled as many suits of armour as thou hast made." "Why, he would be a bad armourer, father Simon, that could not with his own blow make proof of his own workmanship.