Jock looked at him. There was something very severe and forbidding in his countenance; so Jock's courage failed him, and he even took aff his bonnet, and sat down with that in his one hand and the drawn knife in the other. Marion's heart was greatly relieved, and she now ventured on a little conversation: "I hae brought you hame my lad, Goodman, and I hope he'll be a good servant to you." "I coudna say, Marion: Gin he be as gude as you ca'ed him, he'll do. I think he looks like ane that winna be behind at his bicker." "Ay, weel I wat, Goodman, and that's true; and I wadna wish it were otherwise. Slaw at the meat, slaw at the wark, ye ken." "That _is_ a good hint o' my mother's!" thinks Jock to himsel: "What though I should show the auld niggard a sample? The folk o' this house surely hae nae common sense." The dinner was now, however, set down on the kitchen-table. The goodman sat at the head, the servants in a row on each side, and Jock and his mother at the foot. The goodwife stood behind her servants, and gave all their portions. The dinner that day consisted of broad bannocks, as hard as horn, a pail of thin sour milk, called whig, and a portion of a large kebbuck positively as dry as wood. Jock was exceedingly dissatisfied, and could not but admire the utter stupidity of the people, and their total want of all proper distinction. He thought it wonderful that rational creatures should not know what was good for them. He munched, and munched, and gnawed at the hard bread and cheese, till his jaws were sore; but he never once looked at the food before him; but leaning his cheek on his hand to rest his wearied grinders somewhat at every bite he took, and every splash of the sour shilpy milk that he lapped in, he lifted his eyes to the fat bacon ham with the juice standing on it in clear bells. Marion wished herself fairly out of the house, for she perceived there would be an outbreak; and to prepare the good people for whatever might happen, she said before going away,--"Now, goodwife, my callant's banes are green, and he's a fast growing twig; I want to ken if he will get plenty o' meat here." "I winna answer for that, Marion;--he shall fare as the lave fare; but he's may-be no very easily served. There are some misleared servants wha think they never get enough." "Tell me this thing, then, goodwife; will he see enough?" "Ay; I shall answer for that part o't." "Then I shall answer for the rest, goodwife." Jock had by this time given up contending with the timber cheese, and the blue sour milk, and, taking a lug of a bannock in his hand, the size of a shoe sole, he went away and sat down at the fire-side, where he had a full view of the bacon ham, three inches thick of fat, with the dew standing on its brown skin.