“No matter; I don’t sleep another night under your roof.”
“That will be as it may, my lord.”
“What do you mean?”
“Look at the weather, my lord.—Cosmo!”
The boy was still asleep, but at the sound of his name from his father’s lips, he started at once to his feet.
“Go and wake Grizzie,” said the laird, “and tell her to get breakfast ready as fast as she can. Then bring some peat for the fire, and some hot water for his lordship.”
Cosmo ran to obey. Grizzie had been up for more than an hour, and was going about with the look of one absorbed in a tale of magic and devilry. Her mouth was pursed up close, as if worlds should not make her speak, but her eyes were wide and flashing, and now and then she would nod her head, as for the Q. E. D. to some unheard argument. Whatever Cosmo required, she attended to at once, but not one solitary word did she utter.
He went back with the fuel, and they made up the fire. Lord Mergwain was again lying back exhausted in his chair, with his eyes closed.
“Why don’t you give me my brandy—do you hear?” all at once he cried. “—Oh, I thought it was my own rascal! Get me some brandy, will you?”
“There is none in the house, my lord,” said his host.