"He's nae belly god, that's ae
blessing; and Bucklaw's gane, that could have eaten a horse behind
the saddle. Cresses or water-purpie, and a bit ait-cake, can serve
the Master for breakfast as weel as Caleb. Then for dinner--there's no
muckle left on the spule-bane; it will brander, though--it will brander
very weel."
His triumphant calculations were interrupted by the Master, who
communicated to him, not without some hesitation, his purpose to ride
with the Lord Keeper as far as Ravenswood Castle, and to remain there
for a day or two.
"The mercy of Heaven forbid!" said the old serving-man, turning as pal
as the table-cloth which he was folding up.
"And why, Caleb?" said his master--"why should the mercy of Heaven
forbid my returning the Lord Keeper's visit?"
"Oh, sir!" replied Caleb--"oh, Mr. Edgar! I am your servant, and it ill
becomes me to speak; but I am an auld servant--have served baith
your father and gudesire, and mind to have seen Lord Randal, your
great-grandfather, but that was when I was a bairn."
"And what of all this, Balderstone?" said the Master; "what can
it possibly have to do with my paying some ordinary civility to a
neighbour.
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