“The fire’s the best flooer i’ the gairden, an’ the pig’s the best coo i’ the herdin’, my lord,” she said—an old saw to which his lordship might have been readier to respond, had he remembered that the pig sometimes meant the stone jar that held the whisky.
As soon as Lord Mergwain was seated, Cosmo drew his father aside, told him the names of their guests, and in what difficulty he had found them, and added that the lady and the horses were sober enough, but for the other two he would not answer.
“We have been spending some weeks at Canmore Castle in Ross-shire, and are now on our way home,” said Lady Joan to Mistress Warlock.
“You have come a long way round,” remarked the old lady, not so pleased with the manners of her male visitor, on whom she kept casting, every now and then, a full glance.
“We have,” replied Lady Joan. “We turned out of our way to visit an old friend of papa’s, and have been storm-bound till he—I mean papa—could bear it no longer. We sent our servants on this morning. They are, I hope, by this time, waiting us at Howglen.”
The fire had been thawing the sleep out of Lord Mergwain, and now at length he was sufficiently awake to be annoyed that his daughter should hold so much converse with the folk of the inn.
“Can’t you show us to a room?” he said gruffly, “and get us something to eat?”
“We are doing the best we can for your lordship,” replied the laird. “But we were not expecting visitors, and one of the rooms you will have to occupy, has not been in use for some time. In such weather as this, it will take two or three hours of a good fire to render it fit to sleep in. But I will go myself, and see that the servant is making what haste she can.”
He put on his hat over his night-cap, and made for the door.
“That’s right, landlord,” cried his lordship; “always see to the comfort of your guests yourself—But bless me! you don’t mean we have to go out of doors to reach our bedrooms?”