[_The coach starts, and is presently stopped at a corner to take up a male and a female pa.s.senger, who occupy the seats immediately behind the Surly Pa.s.senger._
_The Female P. (enthusiastically, to her companion)._ There"s dear old Mrs. Macfarlane, come out to see the last of us! Look at her standing out there in the garden, all in the rain. That"s what I always say about the Scotch--they _are_ warm-hearted!
[_She waves her hand in farewell to some distant object._
_Her Companion. That_ ain"t her; that"s an old apple-tree in the garden _you_"re waving to. _She"s_ keeping indoors--and shows her sense too.
_The Female P. (disgusted)._ Well, I _do_ think after our being at the farm a fortnight and all, she _might_----But that"s Scotch all _over_, that is; get all they can out of you, and then, for anything _they_ care----!
_The Surly P._ I don"t know whether you are aware of it, ma"am, but that umbrella of yours is sending a constant trickle down the back of my neck, which is _most_ unpleasant!
_The Female P._ I"m sorry to hear it, sir, but it"s no worse for you than it is for me. I"ve got somebody else"s umbrella dripping down _my_ back, and _I_ don"t complain.
_The Surly P._ I _do_, ma"am, for, being in front, I haven"t even the poor consolation of feeling that my umbrella is a nuisance to anybody.
_A Sardonic P. (in the rear, politely)._ On the contrary, sir, I find it a most pleasing object to contemplate. Far more picturesque, I don"t doubt, than any scenery it may happen to conceal.
_A Chatty P. (to the driver; not because he cares, but simply for the sake of conversation)._ What fish do you catch in that river there?
_The Driver (with an effort)._ There"ll be troots, an", maybe, a pairrch or two.
_The Chatty P._ Perch? Ah, that"s rather like a goldfish in shape, eh?
_Driver (cautiously)._ Aye, it would be that.
_Chatty P._ Only considerably bigger, of course.
_Driver (evasively)._ Pairrch is no a verra beg fesh.
_Chatty P._ But bigger than goldfish.
_Driver (more confidently)._ Ou aye, they"ll be begger than goldfesh.
_Chatty P. (persistently)._ You"ve seen goldfish--know what they"re like, eh?
_Driver (placidly)._ I canna say I do.
[_They pa.s.s a shooting party with beaters._
_Chatty P. (as before)._ What are they going to shoot?
_Driver._ They"ll jist be going up to the h.e.l.ls for a bet grouse drivin".
_A Lady P._ I wonder why they carry those poles with the red and yellow flags. I suppose they"re to warn tourists to keep out of range when they begin firing at the b.u.t.ts. I know they _have_ b.u.t.ts up on the moor, because I"ve seen them. Just look at those birds running after that man throwing grain for them. Would those be _grouse_?
_Driver._ Ye"ll no find grouse so tame as that, mem; they"ll jist be phaysants.
_The Lady P._ Poor dear things! why, they"re as tame as chickens. It _does_ seem so cruel to kill them!
_Her Comp._ Well, but they kill chickens, occasionally.
_The Lady P._ Not with a horrid gun; and, besides, that"s such a totally different thing.
_The Chatty P._ What do you call that mountain, driver, eh?
_Driver._ Yon h.e.l.l? I"m no minding its name.
_The Surly P._ You don"t seem very ready in pointing out the objects of interests on the route, I must say.
_Driver (modestly)._ There"ll be them on the corch that know as much aboot it as myself. (_After a pause--to vindicate his character as a cicerone._) Did ye nottice a bit building at the end of the loch over yonder?
_The Surly P._ No, I didn"t.
_Driver._ Ye might ha" seen it, had ye looked.
[_He relapses into a contented silence._
_Chatty P._ Anything remarkable about the building?
_Driver._ It was no the building that"s remairkable. (_After a severe struggle with his own reticence._) It was jist the spoat. "Twas there _Roderick Dhu_ fought _Fitz-James_ after convoying him that far on his way.
[_The Surly Pa.s.senger snorts as though he didn"t consider this information._
_The Lady P. (who doesn"t seem to be up in her "Lady of the Lake").
Fitz-James who?_
_Her Comp._ I fancy he"s the man who owns this line of coaches. There"s his name on the side of this one.
_The Lady P._ And I saw _Roderick Dhu"s_ on another coach. I _thought_ it sounded familiar, somehow. He must be the _rival_ proprietor, I suppose. I wonder if they"ve made it up yet.
_The Driver (to the Surly Pa.s.senger, with another outburst of communicativeness)._ Yon stoan is called "Sawmson"s Putting Stoan." He hurrled it up to the tope of the h.e.l.l, whaur it"s bided ever sence.
[_The Surly Pa.s.senger receives this information with an incredulous grunt._
_The Lady P._ What a magnificent old ruin that is across the valley, some ancient castle, evidently; they can"t build like that nowadays!
_The Driver._ That"s the Collander Hydropawthec, mem; burrnt doon two or three years back.
_The Lady P. (with a sense of the irony of events)._ _Burnt_ down! A Hydropathic! Fancy!
_Male P. (as they enter Callander and pa.s.s a trim villa)._ There, _that"s_ Mr. Figgis"s place.
_His Comp._ What--_that_? Why, it"s quite a _bee-yutiful_ place, with green venetians, and a conservatory, and a croaky lawn, and everything!
Fancy all that belonging to _him!_ It"s well to be a grocer--in _these_ parts, seemingly!
_Male P._ Ah, _we_ ought to come up and start business here; it "ud be better than being in the Caledonian Road!
[_They meditate for the remainder of the journey upon the caprices of Fortune with regard to grocery profits in Caledonia and the Caledonian Road respectively._