MR. BISHOPRIGGS.THE knock at the door was repeated—a louder knock than before.
“Are you deaf?” shouted Arnold.
The door opened, little by little, an inch at a time. Mr. Bishopriggs appeared mysteriously, with the cloth for dinner over his arm, and with his second in command behind him, bearing “the furnishing of the table” (as it was called at Craig Fernie) on a tray.
“What the deuce were you waiting for?” asked Arnold. “I told you to come in.”
“And I tauld you, ” answered Mr. Bishopriggs, “that I wadna come in without knocking first. Eh, man!” he went on, dismissing his second in command, and laying the cloth with his own venerable hands, “d’ye think I’ve lived in this hottle in blinded eegnorance of hoo young married couples pass the time when they’re left to themselves? Twa knocks a
