“Just mak the best o’t—make the besto’t, woman; it’s easy to put a fair face on ony thing.” “But the auld brood-hen? She’ll be as teugh as bow-strings and bend-leather!” “Say ye made a mistake—say ye made a mistake, Mysie,” replied the faithful seneschal, in a soothing and undertoned voice; “tak it a’ on yoursell; never let the credit o’ the house suffer.” “But the brood-hen,” remonstrated Mysie—“ou, she’s sitting some gate aneath the dais in the hall, and I am feared to gae in in the dark for the bogle; and if I didna see the bogle, I could as ill see the hen, for it’s pit-mirk, and there’s no another light in the house, save that very blessed lamp whilk the Master has in his ain hand. And if I had the hen, she’s to pu’, and to draw, and to dress; how can I do that, and them sitting by the only fire we have?” “Weel, weel, Mysie,” said the butler, “bide ye there a wee, and I’ll try to get the lamp wiled away frae them.” Accordingly, Caleb Balderstone entered the apartment, little aware that so much of his by-play had been audible there. “Well, Caleb, my old friend, is there any chance of supper?” said the Master of Ravenswood. “_Chance_ of supper, your lordship?” said Caleb, with an emphasis of strong scorn at the implied doubt. “How should there be ony question of that, and us in your lordship’s house? Chance of supper, indeed! But ye’ll no be for butcher-meat? There’s walth o’ fat poultry, ready either for spit or brander. The fat capon, Mysie!” he added, calling out as boldly as if such a thing had been in existence. “Quite unnecessary,” said Bucklaw, who deemed himself bound in courtesy to relieve some part of the anxious butler’s perplexity, “if you have anything cold, or a morsel of bread.” “The best of bannocks!” exclaimed Caleb, much relieved; “and, for cauld meat, a’ that we hae is cauld eneugh,—how-beit, maist of the cauld meat and pastry was gien to the poor folk after the ceremony of interment, as gude reason was; nevertheless——” “Come, Caleb,” said the Master of Ravenswood, “I must cut this matter short. This is the young Laird of Bucklaw; he is under hiding, and therefore, you know——”