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.

THE face of the little boy, sole witness of Caleb’s infringement upon the laws at once of property and hospitality, would have made a good picture. He sat motionless, as if he had witnessed some of the spectral appearances which he had heard told of in a winter’s evening; and as he forgot his own duty, and allowed his spit to stand still, he added to the misfortunes of the evening by suffering the mutton to burn as black as a coal. He was first recalled from his trance of astonishment by a hearty cuff administered by Dame Lightbody, who, in whatever other respects she might conform to her name, was a woman strong of person, and expert in the use of her hands, as some say her deceased husband had known to his cost.

“What garr’d ye let the roast burn, ye ill-clerkit gude-for-nought?”

“I dinna ken,” said the boy.

“And where’s that ill-deedy gett, Giles?”

“I dinna ken,” blubbered the astonished declarant.

“And where’s Mr. Balderstone?— and abune a’, and in the name of council and kirk-session, that I suld say sae, where’s the broche wi’ the wild-fowl?” As Mrs. Girder here entered, and joined her mother’s exclamations, screaming into one ear while the old lady deafened the other, they succeeded in so utterly confounding the unhappy urchin, that he could not for some time tell his story at all, and it was only when the elder boy returned that the truth began to dawn on their minds.

“Weel, sirs!” said Mrs. Lightbody, “wha wad hae thought o’ Caleb Balderstone playing an auld acquaintance sic a pliskie!”

“Oh, weary on him!” said the spouse of Mr. Girder; “and what am I to say to the gudeman? He’ll brain me, if there wasna anither woman in a’ Wolf’‘s Hope.”

“Hout tout, silly quean,” said the mother; “na, na, it’s come to muckle, but it’s no come to that neither; for an he brain you he maun brain me, and I have garr’d his betters stand back. Hands aff is fair play; we maunna heed a bit flyting.”

The tramp of horses now announced the arrival of the cooper, with the minister. They had no sooner dismounted than they made for the kitchen fire, for the evening was cool after the thunderstorm, and the woods wet and dirty. The young gudewife, strong in the charms of her Sunday gown and biggonets, threw herself in the way of receiving the first attack, while her mother, like the veteran division of the Roman legion, remained in the rear, ready to support her in case of necessity. Both hoped to protract the discovery of what had happened — the mother, by interposing her bustling person betwixt Mr. Girder and the fire, and the daughter, by the extreme cordiality with which she received the minister and her husband, and the anxious fears which she expressed lest they should have “gotten cauld.” “Cauld!” quoted the husband, surlily, for he was not of that class of lords and masters whose wives are viceroys over them, “we’ll be cauld eneugh, I think, if ye dinna let us in to the fire.”

And so saying, he burst his way through both lines of defence; and, as he had a careful eye over his property of every kind, he perceived at one glance the absence of the spit with its savoury burden. “What the deil, woman ——”

“Fie for shame!” exclaimed both the women; “and before Mr. Bide-the-Bent!”

“I stand reproved,” said the cooper; “but —”

“The taking in our mouths the name of the great enemy of our souls,” said Mr. Bide-the-Bent —

“I stand reproved,” said the cooper.

“— Is an exposing ourselves to his temptations,” continued the reverend monitor, “and in inviting, or, in some sort, a compelling, of him to lay aside his other trafficking with unhappy persons, and wait upon those in whose speech his name is frequent.”

“Weel, weel, Mr. Bide-the-Bent, can a man do mair than stand reproved?” said the cooper; “but jest let me ask the women what for they hae dished the wild-fowl before we came.”

“They arena dished, Gilbert,” said his wife; “but — but an accident ——”

“What accident?” said Girder, with flashing eyes. “Nae ill come ower them, I trust? Uh?”

His wife, who stood much in awe of him, durst not reply, but her mother bustled up to her support, with arms disposed as if they were about to be a-kimbo at the next reply.—“I gied them to an acquaintance of mine, Gibbie Girder; and what about it now?”

Her excess of assurance struck Girder mute for an instant. “And YE gied the wild-fowl, the best end of our christening dinner, to a friend of yours, ye auld rudas! And what might HIS name be, I pray ye?”

“Just worthy Mr. Caleb Balderstone — frae Wolf’s Crag,” answered Marion, prompt and prepared for battle.

Girder’s wrath foamed over all restraint. If there was a circumstance which could have added to the resentment he felt, it was that this extravagant donation had been made in favour of our friend Caleb, towards whom, for reasons to which the reader is no stranger, he nourished a decided resentment. He raised his riding-wand against the elder matron, but she stood firm, collected in herself, and undauntedly brandished the iron ladle with which she had just been “flambing” (Anglice, basting) the roast of mutton. Her weapon was certainly the better, and her arm not the weakest of the two; so that Gilbert thought it safest to turn short off upon his wife, who had by this time hatched a sort of hysterical whine, which greatly moved the minister, who was in fact as simple and kind-hearted a creature as ever breathed. “And you, ye thowless jade, to sit still and see my substance disponed upon to an idle, drunken, reprobate, worm-eaten serving-man, just because he kittles the lugs o’ a silly auld wife wi’ useless clavers, and every twa words a lee? I’ll gar you as gude ——”

Here the minister interposed, both by voice and action, while Dame Lightbody threw herself in front of her daughter, and flourished her ladle.

“Am I no to chastise my ain wife?” exclaimed the cooper very indignantly.

“Ye may chastise your ain wife if ye like,” answered Dame Lightbody; “but ye shall never lay finger on my daughter, and that ye may found upon.” “For shame, Mr. Girder!” said the clergyman; “this is what I little expected to have seen of you, that you suld give rein to your sinful passions against your nearest and your dearest, and this night too, when ye are called to the most solemn duty of a Christian parent; and a’ for what? For a redundancy of creature-comforts, as worthless as they are unneedful.”

“Worthless!” exclaimed the cooper. “A better guse never walkit on stubble; two finer, dentier wild ducks never wat a feather.”

“Be it sae, neighbour,” rejoined the minister; “but see what superfluities are yet revolving before your fire. I have seen the day when ten of the bannocks which stand upon that board would have been an acceptable dainty to as many men, that were starving on hills and bogs, and in caves of the earth, for the Gospel’s sake.”

“And that’s what vexes me maist of a’,” said the cooper, anxious to get some one to sympathise with his not altogether causeless anger; “an the quean had gien it to ony suffering sant, or to ony body ava but that reaving, lying, oppressing Tory villain, that ra............