"Well, let me have dinner; for assuredly I am weary of having nothing to look forward to, but from breakfast to dinner, at mid-day; from dinner to supper, at even; and from supper to bed—and so on. I assure you, friend Trotter, it would tire even a Carthusian."
"And tiresome I find it, too! Cocksnails! I would gie my very lugs to be again kicking my heels owre Currie Brig, or Kinleith Craig, for I am wearied o' holding watch and ward here, like the javellour of a tolbooth or the warder of a tower."
As Trotter returned with the dinner upon a broad wooden tray, which usually held the platters, covers, and one small knife, the earl contrived to place his chair in such a manner, that the attendant was tripped by it, and stumbled forward, by which the manchet, or small loaf (in those days the invariable substitute for potatoes), slipped from the tray, and fell upon the floor. While Trotter, after depositing the tray, stooped to pick up the manchet, the earl, like lightning, possessed himself of the knife, and thrust it up his sleeve.
"Look again, friend Trotter," said he, removing the first cover, "thou hast dropped the knife, I think?"
"Have I?" said Trotter, searching all round the table. "Surely no!"
"You must have done so, for I vow 'tis not here."
"I could have sworn it was on the trencherboard when I brought it in," said the fellow, gaping with alarm.
"If you think so, look again."
"By St. Giles! there is nae knife here!"
"Then quick, call for another, or these dainty pullets will be cold as pebble stones."