Such disloyalty, such an underhand way of playing double, seemed to Mr.Garth deserving of any punishment short of that physical one which it would be most enjoyable to inflict, but which it might not, with that Robbie in the way, be quite so pleasant to stand responsible for.

Perhaps it was due to an illogical instinct of the blacksmith's sex that his conscience did not trouble him when he was concocting these pains and penalties for duplicity.

Certainly, when the two persons in question came face to face at the turning of the pack-horse road towards the city, logic played an infinitesimal part in their animated intercourse.
Mr.Garth meant to direct a scorching sneer as silent preamble to his discourse; but owing to the fact that Robbie's blow had fallen about the blacksmith's eyes, and that those organs had since become sensibly eclipsed by a prodigious and discolored swelling, what was meant for a withering glance looked more like a meaningless grin.

At this apparent levity under her many distresses, Liza's wrath rose to boiling point, and she burst out upon Mr.Joseph with more of the home-spun of the country-side than ever fell from her lips in calmer moments.
"Thoo dummel-head, thoo," she said, "thoo'rt as daft as a besom.

Thoo _hes_ made a botch on't, thoo blatherskite.