And as for the white moss rose----" "The de'il a bit ye'll get the white moss rose to grow, unless you bud him on the dogue-rose first," cried a voice at the window.
We both turned round.

There was the everlasting Mr.Begbie, too eager for the controversy to wait any longer at the gate.

The Sergeant wrung my hand, and darted out into the court-yard, hotter still on his side.
"Ask him about the moss rose, when he comes back, and see if I have left him a leg to stand on!" cried the great Cuff, hailing me through the window in his turn.

"Gentlemen, both!" I answered, moderating them again as I had moderated them once already.
"In the matter of the moss rose there is a great deal to be said on both sides!" I might as well (as the Irish say) have whistled jigs to a milestone.

Away they went together, fighting the battle of the roses without asking or giving quarter on either side.