Her unsparing tirade had provoked an outburst of laughter, but not from Robbie.

There were two other occupants of the parlor--Reuben Thwaite, who had never been numbered among the regenerate, and had always spent his Sunday mornings in this place and fashion; and little Monsey Laman, whose duty as schoolmaster usually embraced that of sexton, bell-ringer, and pew-opener combined, but who had escaped his clerical offices on this Sabbath morning by some plea of indisposition which, as was eventually perceived, would only give way before liberal doses of the medicine kept at the sign of the Red Lion.
The laughter of these worthies did not commend itself to Liza's sympathies, for, turning hotly upon them, she said, "And you're worse nor he is, you old sypers." "Liza, Liza," cried Robbie, raising his forefinger in an attitude of remonstrance, which he had just previously been practising on the unhappy Dash,--"Liza, think what it is to call this reverend clerk and sexton and curate a _toper!_" "And so he is; he's like yourself, he's only half-baked, the half thick." "Now--now--now, Liza!" cried Robbie, raising himself on his haunches the better to give effect to his purpose of playing the part of peacemaker and restraining the ardor of his outspoken little friend.
"Come your ways out, I say," said Liza, not waiting for the admonition that was hanging large on the lips of the blear-eyed philosopher on the floor.
"Come your ways," she repeated; "I would be solid and solemn with you." Robbie was at this instant struggling to regain possession of the itinerant Dash, who, perceiving a means of escape, was hobbling his way to the door.
"Wait a minute," said Robbie, having captured the runaway,--"wait a minute, Liza, and Dash will show you how to dance like Mother Garth." "Shaf on Dash!" said Liza, taking a step or two into the room and securing to that animal his emancipation by giving him a smack that knocked him out of Robbie's hands.

"Do you think I've come here to see your tipsy games ?" Robbie responded to this inquiry by asking with provoking good nature if she had not rather come to give him a token of her love.
"Give us a kiss, lass," he said, getting up to his feet and extending his arms to help himself.
Liza gave him something instead, but it produced a somewhat louder and smarter percussion.
"What a whang over the lug she brong him!" said Reuben, turning to the schoolmaster.
"I reckon it's mair wind ner wool, like clippin' a swine," said Matthew Branthwaite, who entered the inn at this juncture.
Robbie's good humor was as radiant as ever.

"A kiss for a blow," he said, laughing and struggling with the little woman.

"It's a Christian virtue, eh, father ?" "Ye'll not get many of them, at that rate," answered Mattha, less than half pleased at an event which he could not comprehend.