“Haud your tongue, ye b——!” said Caleb, in the impetuous and overbearing triumph of successful invention, “a’s provided now—­dinner and a’thing; the thunner’s done a’ in a clap of a hand!”

“Puir man, he’s muckle astray,” said Mysie, looking at him with a mixture of pity and alarm; “I wish he may ever come come hame to himsell again.”

“Here, ye auld doited deevil,” said Caleb, still exulting in his extrication from a dilemma which had seemed insurmountable; “keep the strange man out of the kitchen; swear the thunner came down the chimney and spoiled the best dinner ye ever dressed&mdas
h;­beef—­bacon—­kid—­lark—­leveret—­wild-fowl—­venison, and what not.  Lay it on thick, and never mind expenses.  I’ll awa’ up to the la’.  Make a’ the confusion ye can; but be sure ye keep out the strange servant.”

With these charges to his ally, Caleb posted up to the hall, but stopping to reconnoitre through an aperture, which time, for the convenience of many a domestic in succession, had made in the door, and perceiving the situation of Miss Ashton, he had prudence enough to make a pause, both to avoid adding to her alarm and in order to secure attention to his account of the disastrous effects of the thunder.

But when he perceived that the lady was recovered, and heard the conversation turn upon the accommodation and refreshment which the castle afforded, he thought it time to burst into the room in the manner announced in the last chapter.

“Willawins!—­willawins!  Such a misfortune to befa’ the house of Ravenswood, and I to live to see it.”

“What is the matter, Caleb?” said his master, somewhat alarmed in his turn; “has any part of the castle fallen?”

“Castle fa’an! na, but the sute’s fa’an, and the thunner’s come right down the kitchen-lum, and the things are a’ lying here awa’, there awa’, like the Laird o’ Hotchpotch’s lands; and wi’ brave guests of honour and quality to entertain (a low bow here to Sir William Ashton and his daughter), and naething left in the house fit to present for dinner, or for supper either, for aught that I can see!”

“I very believe you, Caleb,” said Ravenswood, drily.  Balderstone here turned to his master a half-upbraiding, half-imploring countenance, and edged towards him as he repeated, “It was nae great matter of preparation; but just something added to your honour’s ordinary course of fare—­petty cover, as they say at the Louvre—­three courses and the fruit.”

“Keep your intolerable nonsense to yourself, you old fool!” said Ravenswood, mortified at his officiousness, yet not knowing how to contradict him, without the risk of giving rise to scenes yet more ridiculous.

Caleb saw his advantage, and resolved to improve it.  But first, observing that the Lord Keeper’s servant entered the apartment and spoke apart with his master, he took the same opportunity to whisper a few words into Ravenswood’s ear:  “Haud your tongue, for heaven’s sake, sir; if it’s my pleasure to hazard my soul in telling lees for the honour of the family, it’s nae business o’ yours; and if ye let me gang on quietly, I’se be moderate in my banquet; but if ye contradict me, deil but I dress ye a dinner fit for a duke!”