“Hout awa’, auld carle,” said the old dame, “to speak sic daffing to young folk. But, Jean—fie, woman, dinna ye hear the bairn greet? I’se warrant it’s that dreary weid has come ower’t again.” Up got mother and grandmother, and scoured away, jostling each other as they ran, into some remote corner of the tenement, where the young hero of the evening was deposited. When Caleb saw the coast fairly clear, he took an invigorating pinch of snuff, to sharpen and confirm his resolution. “Cauld be my cast,” thought he, “if either Bide-the-Bent or Girder taste that broach of wild-fowl this evening”; and then addressing the eldest turnspit, a boy of about eleven years old, and putting a penny into his hand, he said, “Here is twal pennies, my man; carry that ower to Mrs. Sma’trash, and bid her fill my mill wi’ snishing, and I’ll turn the broche for ye in the mean time; and she will gie ye a ginge-bread snap for your pains.” No sooner was the elder boy departed on this mission than Caleb, looking the remaining turnspit gravely and steadily in the face, removed from the fire the spit bearing the wild-fowl of which he had undertaken the charge, clapped his hat on his head, and fairly marched off with it, he stopped at the door of the change-house only to say, in a few brief words, that Mr. Hayston of Bucklaw was not to expect a bed that evening in the castle. If this message was too briefly delivered by Caleb, it became absolute rudeness when conveyed through the medium of a suburb landlady; and Bucklaw was, as a more calm and temperate man might have been, highly incensed. Captain Craigengelt proposed, with the unanimous applause of all present, that they should course the old fox (meaning Caleb) ere he got to cover, and toss him in a blanket. But Lockhard intimated to his master’s servants and those of Lord Bittlebrains, in a tone of authority, that the slightest impertinence to the Master of Ravenswood’s domestic would give Sir William Ashton the highest offence. And having so said, in a manner sufficient to prevent any aggression on their part, he left the public-house, taking along with him two servants loaded with such provisions as he had been able to procure, and overtook Caleb just when he had cleared the village. CHAPTER XIII. Should I take aught of you? ’Tis true I begged now; And what is worse than that, I stole a kindness; And, what is worst of all, I lost my way in’t. Wit without Money.