The door was opened by Charlotte, and hastily explaining the motive for the call, Mary followed her inside. She found the parlour in a state of confusion, and gathered from the trio in a breath that destiny, in the form of Pilcher's, had ordered that Mr. Macpherson should be torn from his family a week earlier than the severance had been anticipated.
"He's going to Leeds to-morrow," exclaimed the little woman distractedly, oppressed by an armful of shirts that fell from her one by one as she moved; "and it wasn't till this afternoon we heard a word about it. Oh dear! oh dear! how many's that, James?"
"'Tis thirty-three," said the traveller, "an', as ye weel ken, it should be thirty-sax! I canna see the use o' a body havin' thirty-sax shirts if they can never be found."
"I'm afraid I'm in the way," murmured Mary; "I just looked in to say it's all satisfactory, and to tell you how much obliged I am. I won't stop."
"You're not in the way at all. You've got one on, James: that's thirty-four! My dear, would you mind counting these shirts for me? I declare my head's going round!"
She held the bundle out to Mary feebly, and, dropping on to the traveller's box, watched her with harassed eyes.
"Pa has three dozen of 'em," said Charlotte with pride, "'cos of the trouble of getting 'em washed when he goes about so much. I think, though, you lose 'em on the road, pa."
"It's a silly thought that's like ye," returned her parent shortly. "Young leddy, what dae ye mak' it?".
"There are only thirty-three here," replied Mary, struggling with a laugh, "and---and one is thirty-four!"
"Thirty-three," exclaimed Mr. Macpherson, "and are is thirty-four! Twa shirts missin', twa shirts at five and saxpence apiece wasted--lost through repreheensible carelessness!" He sat down on the box by his wife's side, and contemplated her severely. "Aweel," he said at last, sociable under difficulties, "an' Collins was agreeable, ye tell me?"
"Hoh!" he sighed, "ye will na mak' a penny by it. But the pursuit may serve tae occupy ye!"
"Not make a penny by it?" she ejaculated.
"Don't you mind him," said his partner; "he's got the 'ump, that's what's the matter with him!"
"It may serve tae occupy your mind," repeated Mr. Macpherson funereally; "'tis pleasant walkin' in the fine weather. Now mind ye, 'oman, I dinna leave withoot ma twa shirts. I canna banish them frae ma memory."