She was
deceived, however; for just as the ale, or, to speak technically, the
lamb's-wool, was fitted for drinking, and the little dingy maiden
intimated that the sweetbread was ready to be eaten, the thin cracked
voice of Benjamin was heard from the bottom of the stairs.
"Why, Dame Ursley--why, wife, I say--why, dame--why, love, you are
wanted more than a strop for a blunt razor--why, dame--"
"I would some one would draw a razor across thy windpipe, thou bawling
ass!" said the dame to herself, in the first moment of irritation
against her clamorous helpmate; and then called aloud,--"Why, what is
the matter, Master Suddlechop? I am just going to slip into bed; I
have been daggled to and fro the whole day."
"Nay, sweetheart, it is not me," said the patient Benjamin, "but the
Scots laundry-maid from neighbour Ramsay's, who must speak with you
incontinent."
At the word sweetheart, Dame Ursley cast a wistful look at the mess
which was stewed to a second in the stewpan, and then replied, with a
sigh,--"Bid Scots Jenny come up, Master Suddlechop. I shall be very
happy to hear what she has to say;" then added in a lower tone, "and I
hope she will go to the devil in the flame of a tar-barrel, like many
a Scots witch before her!"
The Scots laundress entered accordingly, and having heard nothing of
the last kind wish of Dame Suddlechop, made her reverence with
considerable respect, and said, her young mistress had returned home
unwell, and wished to see her neighbour, Dame Ursley, directly.
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