"Alloo me to tell ye, sir, ye're the first 'at ever daured threep my hoose was no a dacent ane." "I said nothing about your house.

It was your shop I spoke of," 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.