“Fie for shame, your honour!” replied Caleb; “it fits an auld carle like me weel eneugh to tell lees for the credit of the family, but it wadna beseem the like o’ your honour’s sell; besides, young folk are no judicious:  they cannot make the maist of a bit figment.  Now this fire—­for a fire it sall be, if I suld burn the auld stable to make it mair feasible—­this fire, besides that it will be an excuse for asking ony thing we want through the country, or doun at the haven—­this fire will settle mony things on an honourable footing for the family’s credit, that cost me telling twenty daily lees to a wheen idle chaps and queans, and, what’s waur, without gaining credence.”  “That was hard indeed, Caleb; but I do not see how this fire should help your veracity or your credit.”

“There it is now?” said Caleb; “wasna I saying that young folk had a green judgment?  How suld it help me, quotha?  It will be a creditable apology for the honour of the family for this score of years to come, if it is weel guided.  ‘Where’s the family pictures?’ says ae meddling body.  ‘The great fire at Wolf’s Crag,’ answers I.  ‘Where’s the family plate?’ says another.  ‘The great fire,’ says I; ’wha was to think of plate, when life and limb were in danger?’ ’Where’s the wardrobe and the linens?—­where’s the tapestries and the decorements?—­beds of state, twilts, pands and testors, napery and broidered wark?’ ’The fire—­the fire—­the fire.’  Guide the fire weel, and it will serve ye for a’ that ye suld have and have not; and, in some sort, a gude excuse is better than the things themselves; for they maun crack and wear out, and be consumed by time, whereas a gude offcome, prudently and creditably handled, may serve a nobleman and his family, Lord kens how lang!”

Ravenswood was too well acquainted with his butler’s pertinacity and self-opinion to dispute the point with him any farther.  Leaving Caleb, therefore, to the enjoyment of his own successful ingenuity, he returned to the hamlet, where he found the Marquis and the good women of the mansion under some anxiety—­the former on account of his absence, the others for the discredit their cookery might sustain by the delay of the supper.  All were now at ease, and heard with pleasure that the fire at the castle had burned out of itself without reaching the vaults, which was the only information that Ravenswood thought it proper to give in public concerning the event of his butler’s strategem.

They sat down to an excellent supper.  No invitation could prevail on Mr. and Mrs. Girder, even in their own house, to sit down at table with guests of such high quality.  They remained standing in the apartment, and acted the part of respectful and careful attendants on the company.  Such were the manners of the time.  The elder dame, confident through her age and connexion with the Ravenswood family, was less scrupulously ceremonious.  She played a mixed part betwixt that of the hostess of an inn and the