“What! would ye throw all into one scale! Put muckle to muckle, and little to wee! Besides, I hate and scorn small things. I'll go on the highest horse here, or not at all.”
The pursuivant eyed him attentively a moment. He then adopted a courteous manner. “I shall study your will in all things reasonable. (Dismount, Eric, yours is the highest horse.) And if you would halt in the town an hour or so, while you bid them farewell, say but the word, and your pleasure shall be my delight.”
Giles reflected.
“Master,” said he, “if we wait a month, 'twill be still the same: my mother is a good soul, but her body is bigger than her spirit. We shall not part without a tear or two, and the quicker 'tis done the fewer; so bring yon horse to me.”
Catherine threw her apron over her face and sobbed. The high horse was brought, and Giles was for swarming up his tail, like a rope; but one of the servants cried out hastily, “Forbear, for he kicketh.” “I'll kick him,” said Giles. “Bring him close beneath this window, and I'll learn you all how to mount a horse which kicketh, and will not be clomb by the tail, the staircase of a horse.” And he dashed into the house, and almost immediately reappeared at an upper window, with a rope in his hand. He fastened an end somehow, and holding the other, descended as swift and smooth as an oiled thunderbolt in a groove, and lighted astride his high horse as unperceived by that animal as a fly settling on him.
The official lifted his hands to heaven in mawkish admiration. “I have gotten a pearl,” thought he, “and wow but this will be a good day's work for me.”
“Come, father, come, mother, buss me, and bless me, and off I go.”
Eli gave him his blessing, and bade him be honest and true, and a credit to his folk. Catherine could not speak, but clung to him with many sobs and embraces; and even through the mist of tears her eye detected in a moment the little rent in his sleeve he had made getting out of window, and she whipped out her needle and mended it then and there, and her tears fell on his arm the while, unheeded—except by those unfleshly eyes, with which they say the very air is thronged.
And so the dwarf mounted the high horse, and rode away complacent with the old hand laying the court butter on his back with a trowel.
Little recked Perpusillus of two poor silly females that sat by the bereaved hearth, rocking themselves, and weeping, and discussing all his virtues, and how his mind had opened lately, and blind as two beetles to his faults, who rode away from them, jocund and bold.