'Good day to you, Mister Maskew,' says he, holding out his hand.
But Maskew puts his arms behind his back and bubbles out, 'Hold not out
your hand to me lest I spit on it. 'Tis like your snivelling cant to
write sweet psalms for smuggling rogues and try to frighten honest men
with your judgements.'
At first Mr. Glennie did not know what the other would be at, and
afterwards understanding, turned very pale; but said as a minister he
would never be backward in reproving those whom he considered in the
wrong, whether from the pulpit or from the gravestone. Then Maskew
flies into a great passion, and pours out many vile and insolent words,
saying Mr. Glennie is in league with the smugglers and fattens on their
crimes; that the poetry is a libel; and that he, Maskew, will have the
law of him for calumny.
After that he took Grace by the arm, and bade her get hat and cape and
come with him. 'For', says he, 'I will not have thee taught any more by a
psalm-singing hypocrite that calls thy father murderer.' And all the
while he kept drawing up closer to Mr. Glennie, until the two stood very
near each other.
There was a great difference between them; the one short and blustering,
with a red face turned up; the other tall and craning down, ill-clad,
ill-fed, and pale. Maskew had in his left hand a basket, with which he
went marketing of mornings, for he made his own purchases, and liked
fish, as being cheaper than meat.
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