"Gertrude," he said, "pack up your box and come away from these
people instantly. Their pretended hospitality has been a studied
insult. They've put you and me in a most ridiculous position. We
were told before we came here--and no doubt with truth--that Sir
Charles Vandrift was the most close-fisted and tyrannical old
curmudgeon in Scotland. We've been writing to all our friends to
say ecstatically that he was, on the contrary, a most hospitable,
generous, and large-hearted gentleman. And now we find out he's a
disgusting cad, who asks strangers to his house from the meanest
motives, and then insults his guests with gratuitous vituperation.
It is well such people should hear the plain truth now and again in
their lives; and it therefore gives me the greatest pleasure to tell
Sir Charles Vandrift that he's a vulgar bounder of the first water.
Go and pack your box, Gertrude! I'll run down to the Cromarty Arms,
and order a cab to carry us away at once from this inhospitable
sham castle."
"You wear a wig, sir; you wear a wig," Charles exclaimed,
half-choking with passion. For, indeed, as Forbes-Gaskell spoke,
and tossed his head angrily, the nature of his hair-covering grew
painfully apparent. It was quite one-sided.
"I do, sir, that I may be able to shake it in the face of a cad!"
the Professor responded, tearing it off to readjust it; and, suiting
the action to the word, he brandished it thrice in Charles's eyes;
after which he darted from the room, speechless with indignation.
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