"
"I should be unjust if I denied it, Caleb," said his master; "but your
art lies chiefly in making apologies, upon which we can no more dine
than upon the bill of fare of our thunder-blasted dinner. Now, possibly
Mr. Lockhard's talent may consist in finding some substitute for that
which certainly is not, and has in all probability never been."
"Your honour is pleased to be facetious," said Caleb, "but I am sure
that, for the warst, for a walk as far as Wolf's Hope, I could dine
forty men--no that the folk there deserve your honour's custom. They hae
been ill advised in the matter of the duty eggs and butter, I winna deny
that."
"Do go consult together," said the Master; "go down to the village,
and do the best you can. We must not let our guests remain without
refreshment, to save the honour of a ruined family. And here, Caleb,
take my purse; I believe that will prove your best ally."
"Purse! purse, indeed!" quoth Caleb, indignantly flinging out of the
room; "what suld I do wi' your honour's purse, on your ain grund? I
trust we are no to pay for our ain?"
The servants left the hall; and the door was no sooner shut than the
Lord Keeper began to apologise for the rudeness of his mirth; and Lucy
to hope she had given no pain or offence to the kind-hearted faithful
old man.
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