Featuring San Diego's fictional top-rated newsman, Ron Burgundy, played by Will Ferrell, the first Anchorman movie was released nearly a decade ago. If it's not exactly a cult classic, it's flirting with cult status. The people who liked the movie generally loved it, while others promptly forgot it existed. It was rated PG but with a few uncut scenes, it would have been rated R.
Scotchy Scotch Toss is an incredibly simple and somewhat enjoyable cartoonish game based on the personality of Ron Burgundy, who is an arrogant, if funny, highly sexualized and all-around clueless, offensive jerk. So yeah, the kind of guy you want to hang with at a party, bar or boring office To play the game, you select one of four locations: Your goal is to flick ice cubes into Burgundy's glass of scotch. To make it harder, there's a little arrow that implies the curve or force wind you have to throw with or against. Obviously there's no wind inside of an RV, but hey, the game isn't so much about throwing ice cubes as it is about getting Burgundy to say funny things.
Maybe as many as lines. If you play, you'll quickly hear critiques like:. Obviously these are PG sorts of comments -- funny, particularly when delivered in context with Will Ferrell's voice. You're not trying to take advantage of me, are you? Because that would be fantastic! Part of the game is tossing the ice at other people or objects in the room, which sometimes elicits some sort of poorly animated bank shot and a new Burgundy comment.
If you don't have time to waste hours of your life tossing virtual ice cubes, you can download a printout with instructions on how to play the game in real life, complete with a line drawing of Will Ferrell's Ron Burgundy face. Or you can shell out a buck for the game and skip to the Soundboard, which lets you play back some of the best lines whenever you want -- a few of which might be worth hacking into a ringtone or two. Meanwhile, how's the game rank?
The bird flew high up above the sky! He believed in stars, believed in the beauty of the world believed in moon power. The bird flew up above higher and higher! The air was warm the stars shone, he was surrounding by a perfect magic glowing sky , but it was not enough for him, the bird wanted more and more! Many's the dinner he got off my father's table before he married me—and to have your lads about the house would never please him. Many is the thought I take about it when ye think I have nothing in my head but my own trouble.
He would never put up with your lads about the house. Who would dare to speak like that of us? Mary laughed a little over her work. She was darning the stockings of the household, with a large basket before her, and her hand and arm buried in a large leg of grey-blue worsted.
She did not blush as Kirsteen did, but with a little simper accepted her mother's suggestion. If your father heard you, he would turn us all to the door," said Mrs. And it's just an old fashion thinking so much of your family. The old Douglases might be a fine folk, but what did they ever do for us? And what have we to stand upon if it's not them? We would be no more than common folk. The conviction of Kirsteen's indignant tones; the disdainful certainty of being, on the natural elevation of that grand race, something very different from common folk, overawed the less convinced and less visionary pair.
Douglas continued to weep, silently rocking herself to and fro, while Mary made what explanations she could to her fiery assailant. And the fashion's aye changing, and folk that have plenty are more thought upon than them that have nothing, whatever may be their name. It's not a spangled muslin, but an old name that will carry us there. When the ladies and gentlemen are going to the ball we'll be sitting with our seams with one candle between us. And we may just spend our lives so, for anything I can see—and the Old Douglases will never fash their heads.
Douglas with a start, hastily drying her eyes. Her ear was keener for that alarming sound than the girls', who were caught almost in the midst of their talk. The laird came in, pushing open the door with a violent swing which was like a gale of wind, and the suspicious silence that succeeded his entrance, his wife having recourse to her knitting in sudden desperation, and the daughters bending over their various tasks with devotion, betrayed in a moment what they desired to hide from his jealous eye.
He came first to the fireside round which they were sitting; then he stared into the glowing peat with eyes almost as red: There was not too much light at any time from that narrow and primitive opening, and his solid person filled it up almost entirely. Kirsteen laid down her work upon her lap. It was of a finer kind than Mary's, being no less than the hemming of the frills of Drumcarro's shirts, about which he was very particular. He had certain aristocratic habits, if not much luxury, and the fineness of his linen was one of these.
Kirsteen's hemming was almost invisible, so small were the stitches and the thread so delicate. She was accomplished with her needle according to the formula of that day. She's making some cursed nonsense I'll be bound for her ain back. He eyed her for a moment with sullen opposition, then stepped away from the window without a word. He had an uneasy sensation that when Kirsteen was his opponent the case did not always go his way.
No to disturb me! Ye would disturb me if I was on my deathbed for any confounded nonsense of your ain. If it were not for one thing more than another I would turn her out of my house. Douglas, clasping her hands. And if you take away Marg'ret I'll just lie down and die—for there will be no comfort more. Douglas was too frightened to speak, and as for Kirsteen she was very little disposed to take advantage of the milder frame of mind in which her father seemed to be to wheedle or persuade him into a consent. It was Mary who profited by the unusual opportunity. And all the folk besides from far and near—that are good enough," Mary said adroitly.
Douglas here interposed, anxious apparently lest her daughter should go too far. Let them speak for themselves. I've heard all the story from beginning to end. They're weary of their life here, and they think if they went to this folly, they might maybe each get a man to deliver them. To her who knew better, who had not only the pride of her young womanhood to make that suggestion terrible, but the secret in her heart which made it blasphemy—there was something intolerable in the words and laugh and jibe, which roused her mother to a wondering and tremulous confidence, and made Mary's heart bound with anticipated delight.
But no notice was taken of Kirsteen's outcry. The laird's harsh laugh drew forth a tremulous accompaniment, which was half nervous astonishment and half a desire to please him, from his more subservient womankind. It's not to your judgment I'm meaning to trust. What's Kirsteen after there, with her red head and her e'en on fire?
Sit down on your chair and keep silent if ye have nothing pleasant to say. I'm not a man for weirdless nonsense and promiscuous dancing and good money thrown away on idle feasts and useless claes. But if there's a serious meaning at the bottom of it, that's just another matter. Eelen, I suppose that's in all the folly of the place and well known to the Duke and his family, as she has a good right to be from her name, will understand all about it, and how to put them forth and set them out to the best advantage.
It must be well done, if it's done at all. And Kirsteen, she has a very white skin that needs nothing. It's just a piece of muslin for our gowns—". Douglas, "when I mind all my bonny dyes, and my pearlins and ribbons, and high-heeled shoes, and my fan as long as your arm; and washes for my skin and cushions for my hair! And it's not the case! It's not the case!
Ye're not to believe him," she said with a feverish flush upon her cheeks. You're a bonny one to lift your face to your father. If you say another word ye shall not go. DOUGLAS was the first to echo this prudent advice when after she had wept away the sting of that atrocious accusation and minutely described her "bonny dyes" her pretty things to her children who indeed had heard all about them often, and knew the pearl pin and the garnets by heart, and had been comforted with a cup of tea, she came to herself.
And by that time Kirsteen's indignation too had cooled, and thoughts of the heaven of the Castle, with fine ladies and grand gentlemen pacing forth as in the ballads, and music playing and the sound of the dancers' feet, began to buzz in her young head and fill it with longings. If he had been at home he would have been there.
It would never now be what it might have been had it happened before. But even with that great blank of absence Kirsteen was but twenty, and her heart did not refuse to throb a little at this unthought of, unhoped for prospect. Just to see it, and how great persons behaved, and what like the world was, when you were in it, that world which represents itself in so many different ways to the youthful imagination.
Kirsteen felt that at the Castle she would see it in all its glory, nothing better in the king's own court—for was it not under the shadow of the Duke, and what could fancy desire more? She would need no further enlightenment or experience of the aspect of society, and what it was and how it looked, than she could get there.
This was the Highland girl's devout belief; Vedi Napoli e poi morire; earth could not have anything to show more fair. Marg'ret would have been more than a woman had she not been all-glorious over this event. Her faithful champion looked at her with anxious eyes. The cold chill of such an alarm not seldom comes across the designer of future events when all has been carefully arranged to quicken the action of Providence. But Marg'ret put that discouraging alarm hastily out of her mind. Right or wrong it was always a good thing that her nurslings should see the world.
When the roll of white muslin arrived that was to make the famous gowns, and when Miss Macnab who was not without claims in some far-away manner to be connected with a family in as near as the tenth remove from the laird of Macnab's own sovereign race came over with her little valise, and her necessaire full of pins and needles, and was put into the best room, and became for the time the centre of interest in the household—Marg'ret could scarcely contain herself for pleasure.
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It might be thought indeed that the fashion of that time required no great amount of labour in the construction of two white dresses for a pair of girls. But Miss Macnab was of a different opinion. She did not know indeed the amount of draping and arranging, the skill of the artist in the fine hanging of folded stuffs, or even the multitudinous flouncings of an intermediate age into which the art of dress was to progress. The fashions of look like simplicity itself; the long, straight narrow skirt, the short waist, the infantile sleeves, would seem to demand little material and less trouble for their simple arrangement.
But no doubt this was more in appearance than in reality, and the mind of the artist is always the same whatever his materials may be. Miss Macnab kept the young ladies under hand for hours fitting every line—not folds, for folds there were none—so that the skirt might cling sufficiently without affording too distinct a revelation of the limbs beneath, an art perhaps as difficult as any of the more modern contrivances.
Mary stood like a statue under the dressmaker's hands. She was never weary; so long as there was a pleat or seam that needed correction, a pinch too little here, a fulness too much there, she was always ready. The white gown was moulded upon her with something like a sculptor's art.
Miss Macnab with her mouth full of pins, and her fingers seamed with work, pinned and pulled, and stretched out and drew in with endless perseverance. She was an artist in her way. It was terrible to her as a mistake on the field of battle to a general, to send forth into the world a gown that did not fit, a pucker or a twist in any garment she made. There are no Miss Macnabs nowadays, domestic professors of the most primitive yet everlasting of arts. The trouble she took over her composition would tire out a whole generation of needlewomen, and few girls even for a first ball would stand like Mary to be manipulated.
And there is no such muslin now as the fine and fairy web, like the most delicate lawn, which was the material of those wonderful gowns, and little workmanship so delicate as that which put together the long seams, and made invisible hems round the scanty but elaborate robe. Kirsteen, who was not so patient as her sister, looked on with a mixture of contempt and admiration.
It did not, to her young mind and thoughts occupied with a hundred varying interests, seem possible at first to give up all that time to the perfection even of a ball-dress. But presently the old seamstress with her devotion to her art began to impress the open-minded girl. It was not a very rich living which Miss Macnab derived from all this labour and care. To see her kneeling upon her rheumatic knees, directing the easy fall of the soft muslin line to the foot which ought to peep from underneath without deranging the exactness of the delicate hem, was a wonder to behold.
A rivulet of pins ran down the seam, and Miss Macnab's face was grave and careful as if the destinies of a kingdom were upon that muslin line. Miss Macnab looked up from where she knelt by Mary's knee. She had to take the pins out of her mouth before she could speak, which was inconvenient, for no pincushion is ever so handy.
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Kirsteen, who knew very little of any art, but thought it meant painting pictures, here gave vent, to her own shame afterwards, to a little laugh, and said hastily, "I would just set it straight and sew it up again if it was me. When I was in a lairger way of business, with young ones working under me, I aye let them try their ain way; and maistly I found they were well content after to turn to mine—that is if they were worth the learning," she added composedly; "there are many that are just a waste of time and pains. But if I were to take mine I would never yield, I would make it answer," said Kirsteen.
She added with a blush, "I just cannot think enough of all your trouble and the pains ye take. Miss Macnab gave the blushing girl a friendly look. She had again her mouth full, so that speech was impossible, but she nodded kindly and with dignity in return for this little burst of approval which she knew to be her due; and it was with all the confidence of conscious merit and a benign condescension that she expounded her methods afterwards.
Take a' the trouble ye can at the beginning, and the end will come right of itsel'. A careless start means a double vexation in the finish. And that ye'll find to apply," said this mild philosopher, "to life itsel' as well as to the dressmaking, which is just like a' the airts I ever heard tell of, a kind of epitome of life. Kirsteen could not but break out into a laugh again, notwithstanding her compunction, at the dressmaker's high yet mild pretension; but she listened with great interest while Mary stood and gave all her thoughts to the serious subject of the skirt and how it would hang.
And what with these differing motives and experiences the workroom was the opening of new interests in Drumcarro as important as even the ball at the Castle. The excitement and continued interest made the greatest improvement in Mrs. Douglas's health, who came and sat in Miss Macnab's room and gave a hundred directions which the dressmaker received blandly but paid no attention to.
Marg'ret herself was stirred by the presence of the artist.
She not only excelled herself in the scones she made for Miss Macnab's tea, but she would come in the afternoon when she was not "throng" and stand with her hands upon each side of her ample waist and admire the work and add no insignificant part to the conversation, discoursing of her own sister, Miss Jean Brown, that was in a very large way of business in London, having gone there as a lady's maid twenty years before. The well born Miss Macnab allowed with a condescending wave of her hand that many began in that way.
While these proceedings were occupying all his family, Drumcarro himself proceeded with the practical energy which hitherto had only been exercised on behalf of his sons to arrange for his daughters' presentation to the world. More exciting to the county than a first drawing-room of the most splendid season was the ball at the Castle which was by far the finest thing that many of the Argyllshire ladies of those days ever saw. Even among those who like the family of Drumcarro owned no clan allegiance to the Duke, the only way of approaching the beau monde , the great world which included London and the court as well as the Highlands, was by his means.
The Duke in his own country was scarcely second to the far off and unknown King whose throne was shrouded in such clouds of dismay and trouble, and the Duchess was in all but name a far more splendid reality than the old and peevish majesty, without beauty or prestige, who sat in sullen misery at Windsor.
To go to London, or even to Edinburgh, to the Lord High Commissioner's receptions at Holyrood, was a daring enterprise that nobody dreamed of; but to go to the Castle was the seal of good blood and breeding. When he had got this notion into his head Drumcarro was as determined upon it as the fondest father could have been.
The girls were of no consequence, but his daughters had their rights with the best, and he would not have the family let down even in their insignificant persons; not to speak of the powerful suggestion of relieving himself from further responsibility by putting them each in the way of finding "a man. He made his appearance accordingly one afternoon in the little house inhabited by Miss Eelen, to the great surprise of that lady. It was a very small, grey house, standing at a corner of the village street, with a small garden round it, presenting a curious blank and one-eyed aspect, from the fact that every window that could be spared, and they were not abundant to start with, had been blocked up on account of the window-tax.
Miss Eelen's parlour was dark in consequence, though it had originally been very bright, with a corner window towards the loch and the quay with all its fishing-boats. This, however, was completely built up, and the prospect thus confined to the street and the merchant's opposite—a little huckster's shop in which everything was sold from needles to ploughshares. Miss Eelen was fond of this window, it was so cheerful; and it was true that nobody could escape her who went to Robert Duncan's—the children who had more pennies to spend than was good for them, or the servant girls who went surreptitiously with bottles underneath their aprons.
Miss Eelen kept a very sharp eye upon all the movements of the town, but even she acknowledged the drowsiness that comes after dinner, and sat in her big chair near the fire with her back turned to the window, "her stocking" in her lap, and her eyes, as she would have described it, "gathering straes," when Mr. Douglas paid her that visit. Her cat sat on a footstool on the other side, majestically curling her tail around her person, and winking at the fire like her mistress. The peats were burning with their fervent flameless glow, and comfort was diffused over the scene.
When Drumcarro came in Miss Eelen started and instinctively put up her hands to her cap, which in these circumstances had a way of getting awry. Douglas, with an effort. A certain shamefacedness appeared on his hard countenance—something like a blush, if that were a thing possible to conceive. I'm informed that the haul country—everybody that's worth calling gentry will be going.
You're hand and glove with all the clanjamfry. If ye mean that his Grace and her Grace are just bye ordinary pleasant, and the young lords and ladies aye running out and in—no for what I have to give them, as is easy to be seen—". Ye were saying ye had received information? Now I'm not a man for entertainment, or any of your nonsense of music and dancing, nor ever was. I have had too much to do in my life. But I'm told it will be a slight to the name if there's none goes from Drumcarro.
Ye know what my wife is—a complaining creature with no spirit to say what's to be done, or what's not—". Douglas, "to get any enlightenment on her character or mine. I've always thought ye a sensible woman, Eelen, even though we do not always agree. They tell me it'll be like a scorn put upon Drumcarro if the lasses are not at this ploy. Confound them a' and their meddling, and the fools that make feasts, and the idiots that yammer and talk!
I've come to you to see what you think. There shall come no scorn on Drumcarro while I'm to the fore. It is just the truth. It will be said—for that matter it is said already—that ye're so poor or so mean that ye grudge the poor things a decent gown, and keep them out of every chance. I would not have said a word if you had not asked me, but that's just what folk say.
Drumcarro got up hastily from his chair and paced about the room, and he swore an oath or two below his breath that relieved his feelings. There was a great deal more in Miss Eelen's eyes. The "auld slave-driver" knew that his name did not stand high among his peers, and his imagination was keen enough to supply the details of the gossip of which his cousin gave so pleasant a summary.
And that's what ye can tell your gossips, Eelen, the next time ye ask them to a dish of tea—no' to say you're a Douglas yourself and should have more regard for your own flesh and blood. Na, Drumcarro, I always gave ye credit if but your pride was touched. And it's just what I would have wished, for I was keen for a sight of the ploy mysel' but too old to go for my own pleasure.
You will just send them and their finery over to me in the gig, and I'll see to all the rest. Bless me, to think of the feeling that comes out when ye least expect it. I was aye convinced that if once your pride was touched. And who knows what may come of it? There's plenty of grand visitors at the Castle—a sight of them's as good as a king's court. He was of opinion that when a thing is to be done, it is never so well done as when you do it in your own person, and like most other people of similar sentiments, he trusted nobody. Miss Eelen as one of the race, was no doubt on the whole in the interests of the family, but Drumcarro felt that even she was not to be trusted with so delicate a matter as the securing of "a man" for Mary or Kirsteen.
It was better that he should be on the spot himself to strike when the iron was hot, and let no opportunity slip. It is true that his costume was far from being in the latest fashion; but to this he was supremely indifferent, scarcely taking it into the most cursory consideration. If he went in sackcloth he would no less be a Douglas, the representative of the old line upon whose pedigree there was neither shadow nor break.
He was very confident that he could not appear anywhere without an instant recognition of his claims. Those of the Duke himself were in no way superior: Such at least was the conviction of Drumcarro; and he marched to the Castle in his one pair of black silk stockings—with his narrow country notions strangely crossed by the traditions of the slave-driving period, with all his intense narrow personal ambitions and grudges, and not an idea beyond the aggrandizement of his family—in the full consciousness of equality if not superiority to the best there, the statesman Duke, the great landowners and personages who had come from far and near.
Such a conviction sometimes gives great nobleness and dignity to the simple mind, but Drumcarro's pride was not of this elevating kind. It made him shoulder his way to the front with rising rage against all the insignificant crowd that got before him, jostle as he might; it did not give him the consolatory assurance that where he was, there must be the most dignified place. It must be allowed, however, in defence of his attitude that to feel yourself thrust aside into a crowd of nobodies when you know your place to be with the best, is trying.
Some people succeed in bearing it with a smile, but the smile is seldom warm or of a genial character. And Drumcarro, at the bottom of the room, struggling to get forward, seeing the fine company at the other end, and invariably, persistently, he scarcely knew how, put back among the crowd, was not capable of that superlative amiability.
The surprise of it partially subdued him for a time, and Miss Eelen's exertions, who got him by the arm, and endeavoured to make him hear reason. Yon's just the visitors, chiefly from England and foreign parts—earls and dukes, and such like. The Douglases have held their own and more for as many hundred years—". Lord, ye'll have all the folk staring as if we were some ferly. Everybody knows who the Douglases were; but man, mind the way of the world that ye are just as much affected by as any person.
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Riches and titles take the crown of the causeway. We have to put up with it whether we like it or no. You're fond of money and moneyed folk yourself—". But then he felt that he had gone too far. You'll excuse me, Eelen? She added, perceiving a vacant chair a little higher up near the edge of the privileged line, "I see my harbour, Drumcarro, and there I'll go, but no further;" and with an able dive through the throng and long experience of the best methods, managed adroitly to settle herself there.
She caught by the elbow as she made her dart a gentleman who stood by, a man with grey hair still dressed in a black silk bag in the old-fashioned way which was no longer the mode. I'm wanting your help; you were always on the Douglas' side. He was a man between fifty and sixty, with a fresh colour, and gentle, friendly air, much better dressed and set up than Drumcarro, but yet with something of the look of a man more accustomed to the hill-side and the moor than to the world.
Auld Earl Douglas, our great forbear, was naething to him for pride. He will just shame us all before the Duke and Duchess and their grand visitors, if some one will not interfere. The gentleman thus appealed to turned round quickly with a glance at the two girls, who with difficulty, and a little breathless and blushing with excitement, had emerged out of the crowd behind Miss Eelen, less skilled in making their way than she. But yonder's their father making everybody stand about. For ainy sake, Glendochart. The girls both thought, as his look dwelt upon them, that he was a most kind and pleasant old gentleman, and sighed with a thought that life would be far easier and everything more practicable if their father was but such another.
But alas, that was past praying for. They had a little more space now that they had gained this comparative haven at the side of Miss Eelen's chair to take breath and look about them, and shake themselves free of the crowd. The muslin gowns had been very successful; the skirts fell in a straight line from the waistband high under their arms to their feet, one with a little edge of fine white embroidery, the other with a frill scarcely to be called a flounce round the foot.
The bodices were no longer than a baby's, cut in a modest round with a little tucker or lace against the warm whiteness of the bosom: Mary wore her necklace of cairngorms with much pride. Kirsteen had nothing upon her milk-white throat to ornament or conceal it. Nothing could have been whiter than her throat, with the soft warmth of life just tinging its purity; her red hair which goes so well with that warm whiteness, was done up in what was called a classic knot at the back of her head, but there were some little curls which would not be gainsaid about her forehead and behind her ear.
Her arms were covered with long silk gloves drawn up to meet the short sleeves. She was in a great tremor of excited imagination and expected pleasure. She was not thinking of partners indeed, nor of performing at all in her own person. She had come to see the world—to see the fine ladies and gentlemen, to hear some of their beautiful talk perhaps, and watch the exquisite way in which they would behave themselves. This was the chief pre-occupation of her mind.
She looked round her as if it had been "the play. The ball she had decided from the first day it had been mentioned, would be as good as going to the play. Miss Eelen very soon found an old lady sitting near with whom she could talk, but Mary and Kirsteen stood together looking out upon the faces and the moving figures and speaking to no one. They scarcely cared to talk to each other, which they could do, they both reflected, very well at home. They stood pressing close to each other, and watched all the coming and going. In the position which they had gained they could see all the sets, the great people at the head of the room, the humbler ones below.
Kirsteen had an advantage over her sister. She had met Lady Chatty several times at Miss Eelen's and had admired her, half for herself, half for her position, which had a romantic side very delightful to her simple imagination.
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This gave Kirsteen a shock in the perfect pleasure with which she watched the graceful movements and animated looks of the future beauty. She had felt a disinterested delight in following the other girl through her dance, admiring how happy she looked and how bright; but Mary's criticism had a chilling effect.
A long time passed thus, and Kirsteen began to feel tired in spite of herself; the pleasure of watching a room full of animated dancers very soon palls at twenty. Her expectation of pleasure gradually died away. It was very bonny, but not the delight she had thought. Mary stood with a smile which had never varied since they entered the room, determined to look pleased whatever happened—but Kirsteen was not able to keep up to that level. If he had but been there!
It gave her a singular consolation to think of this, to feel that it was in some sort a pledge of her belonging to him that she was only a spectator in the place where he was not; but she was too sensible not to be aware that her consolation was a fantastic one, and that she would in fact have been pleased to dance and enjoy herself. She and her sister were pushed a little higher up by the pressure of the crowd which formed a fringe round the room, and which consisted of a great many young men too timid to break into the central space where the fine people were performing, and of tired and impatient girls who could not dance till they were asked.
Somehow it began to look all very foolish to Kirsteen, not beautiful as she had hoped. And then by ill luck she overheard the chatter of a little party belonging to the house. It was the kind of chatter which no doubt existed and was freely used at the balls given by the Pharoahs if they gave balls , or by Pericles, or at least by Charlemagne. The young man a little flushed and blushing at his own daring, the girl, yes!
But the young ladies and gentlemen from London laughed "consumedly. We have the natives once a year and make 'em dance. Wait a little till they warm to it, and then you shall see what you shall see. Kirsteen's bosom swelled with pride and scorn and injured feeling. And she had thought everybody would be kind! And to think of a menagerie and the natives making a show for these strangers to see! Kirsteen looked every inch Drumcarro's daughter as she turned round, an angry flush on her face, and her eyes shining with angry tears.
And what would ye have? We cannot all have young men. Will ye come or will ye not? And the gentleman waiting—and me that cannot if you will not. He patted her hand as he drew it through his arm. Neither of the girls were very much at their ease in the quadrille, but they watched the first dancers with anxious attention, and followed their example with the correctness of a lesson just received.
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Kirsteen, though she began very reluctantly, was soothed in spite of herself by the music and the measure, and the satisfaction of having a share in what was going on. She forgot for a moment the gibes she had listened to with such indignation.
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A quadrille is a very humdrum performance nowadays to those who know nothing so delightful as the wild monotony of the round dance. But in Kirsteen's time the quadrille was still comparatively new, and very "genteel. They were met as they came back by a very fine gentleman with a riband and a star, who stopped to speak to her companion, and at whom Kirsteen looked with awe. The young lady is Miss Kirsteen Douglas, a daughter of Drumcarro. And yet one would think my story is not a thing to forget.
Did you ever hear how it was that John Campbell of Glendochart was a lone auld bachelor? It's not a tale for a ball-room, but there's something in your pretty eyes that makes me fain to tell. He laughed softly, and shook his head. When my Lord John goes to St. James's the men of fashion and their ladies will say much the same of him, and you will be well avenged. Word was sent home that I was killed when I was but badly wounded. I had neither father nor mother to inquire closely, and everybody believed it, and she too. I believe her friends were glad on the whole, for I was a poor match for her.
Her heart was nearly broke, but she was very young and she got over it, and, whether with her own will or without it I cannot tell, but when I came home at last it was her wedding-day. Me, I would have waited and waited on—". The marriage was just over when I came to her father's house thinking no evil. And we met; and when she saw me, and that I was a living man, and remembered the ring that was on her finger and that she was another man's wife—she went into her own maiden chamber that she had never left and shut to the door.
And there she just died, and never spoke another word. She clasped his arm with both her hands, looking up at him with all her heart in her face. And then he began to talk of other things: Kirsteen, in the warmth of her roused feeling, thought nothing of that. She was thinking of the other who was away with his regiment, for who could tell how many years—and for whom one was waiting at home—one that would never put another in his place, no, not for a moment, not whatever news might come!
I danced with young Mr. Campbell of the Haigh, and once with old Glendochart, who is a very well mannered man, though he is not so young as once he was. Kirsteen had no thought of "Joes" old or young, but she thought with pleasure that she had gained a friend. Aunt Eelen, did you ever hear—". Kirsteen cast a glance round and checked further questions, for her father consuming a delicate Loch Fyne herring, with his attention concentrated on his plate, and Mary seated primly smiling over her scone, were not at all in sympathy with the tale she had been told last night.
Miss Eelen, with the tray before her on which stood the teapot and teacups, peering into each to count the lumps of sugar she had placed there, did not appear much more congenial, through there were moments when the old lady showed a romantic side. No trace of the turban and feathers of last night was on her venerable head. She wore a muslin mutch, fine but not much different from those of the old wives in the cottages, with a broad black ribbon round it tied in a large bow on the top of her head; and her shoulders were enveloped in a warm tartan shawl pinned at the neck with a silver brooch.
The fringes of the shawl had a way of getting tangled in the tray, and swept the teaspoons to the ground when she made an incautious movement; but nothing would induce Miss Eelen to resign the tea-making into younger hands. But there's a time for everything. If ye ask me at another moment I'll tell ye the whole story.
Is it you, Drumcarro, that takes no sugar in your tea? No doubt you've had plenty in your time in yon dreadful West Indies where you were so long. Ye would think ye were in paradise if ye were there.