"
"The better--the better," said Sir Mungo. "It is a credit to her,
that, bred and born within the sound of Bow-bell, she can blush for
any thing; and, by my saul, Master George," he continued, chucking the
irritated and reluctant damsel under the chin, "she is bonny enough to
make amends for her lack of ancestry--at least, in such a region as
Cheapside, where, d'ye mind me, the kettle cannot call the porridge-
pot--"
The damsel blushed, but not so angrily as before. Master George Heriot
hastened to interrupt the conclusion of Sir Mungo's homely proverb, by
introducing him personally to Lord Nigel.
Sir Mungo could not at first understand what his host said,--"Bread of
Heaven, wha say ye, man?"
Upon the name of Nigel Olifaunt, Lord Glenvarloch, being again
hollowed into his ear, he drew up, and, regarding his entertainer with
some austerity, rebuked him for not making persons of quality
acquainted with each other, that they might exchange courtesies before
they mingled with other folks. He then made as handsome and courtly a
congee to his new acquaintance as a man maimed in foot and hand could
do; and, observing he had known my lord, his father, bid him welcome
to London, and hoped he should see him at Court.
Nigel in an instant comprehended, as well from Sir Mungo's manner, as
from a strict compression of their entertainer's lips, which intimated
the suppression of a desire to laugh, that he was dealing with an
original of no ordinary description, and accordingly, returned his
courtesy with suitable punctiliousness.
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