“’Deed, I s’ du naething o’ the kin’,” said Grizzie to herself; “it’s eneuch to raise a regiment--gien it camna doon upo’ my heid.” But she had her suspicion, and finding the great door open, ascended the stair. The two were sitting at a table, with the genealogical tree of the family spread out before them, the father telling tale after tale, the son listening in delight. I must confess, however--let it tell against the laird’s honesty as it may--that, his design being neither to glorify his family, nor to teach records, but to impress all he could find of ancestral nobility upon his boy, he made a choice, and both communicated and withheld. So absorbed were they, that Grizzie’s knock startled them both a good deal. “Yer denners is ready, laird,” she said, standing erect in the doorway. “Verra weel, Grizzie, I thank ye,” returned the laird.--“Cosmo, we’ll take a walk together this evening, and then I’ll tell you more about that brother of my grandfather’s. Come along to dinner now.--I houp ye hae something in honour o’ the occasion, Grizzie,” he added in a whisper when he reached the door, where the old woman waited to follow them. “I teuk it upo’ me, laird,” answered Grizzie in the same tone, while Cosmo was going down the stair, “to put a cock an’ a leek thegither, an’ they’ll be nane the waur that ye hae keepit them i’ the pot a whilie langer.--Cosmo,” she went on when they had descended, and overtaken the boy, who was waiting for them at the foot, “the Lord bless ye upo’ this bonnie day! An’ may ye be aye a comfort to them ’at awes ye, as ye hae been up to this present.” “I houp sae, Grizzie,” responded Cosmo humbly; and all went together to the kitchen. There the table was covered with a clean cloth of the finest of homespun, and everything set out with the same nicety as if the meal had been spread in the dining-room. The old lady, who had sought to please her son by putting on her best cap for the occasion, but who had in truth forgot what day it was until reminded by Grizzie, sat already at the head of the table, waiting their arrival. She made a kind speech to the boy, hoping he would be master of the place for many years after his father and she had left him. Then the meal commenced. It did not last long. They had the soup first, and then the fowl that had been boiled in it, with a small second dish of potatoes--the year’s baby Kidneys, besides those Grizzie had pared. Delicate pancakes followed--and dinner was over--except for the laird, who had a little toddy after. But as yet Cosmo had never even tasted strong drink--and of course he never desired it. Leaving the table, he wandered out, pondering some of the things his father had been telling him. CHAPTER IV. AN AFTERNOON SLEEP.