From the vast multitude who crowded the venerable aisles of St. Giles church, there rose a deafening shout of rage; and Jenny Geddes, the keeper of a greenstall, at the Tronbeam — one whose name has been embalmed, like another St. Helen, in the annals of Presbytery — hurled her foldstool at the Dean's head, exclaiming — “False thief! darest thou say the mass at my lug?"