Not so Josey; she never was better pleased in her life; she crowed and screamed with delight, and rewarded her Scotch nurse, by tangling her tiny white fingers in his bushy red whiskers, and pulling his long nose.
“Haut! you’re a speretted lass. Is that the way you mean to lead the men?” he said, as he bounced her down into his wife’s lap, and told her, “that it was her turn to mak’ a trial o’ that kind o’ wark, an’ see how it wud fit: he was verra’ sure he sud sune be tired o’t.” And this speech was received with another giggle, followed by a loud laugh.
The old gentleman was impatient to discuss the important business of tea-drinking; after which he proposed to have the pleasure of showing his visitors the garden, and some other grand sight of which he would not speak now, but which he was certain must be appreciated by every person, who possessed a half-pennyworth of taste.
Flora sat down to the table, wondering what they could be.
Big Wullie stepped to the hall-door, and summoned the children to the evening meal with a loud hallo! which was answered from among the trees by a jovial shout, and in a few minutes the young folks poured into the room, some of them looking rather dull, from their protracted visit to the strawberry-beds.
The fresh air and exercise had given Mrs. Lyndsay an unusual appetite. She enjoyed her meal, but this did not satisfy the overflowing hospitality of her entertainers, who pressed her in every possible manner to take more, till she felt very much inclined to answer with the poor country girl, “Dear knows, I can’t eat another bit.”
There was no way of satisfying the entreaties of the Greggs, but by making a retreat from the table, and even then they persisted in declaring their guests had been starved, and would not do the least justice to their good cheer.
This mistaken kindness brought to Flora’s mind a story she had heard Lyndsay tell of a merchant of Edinburgh who went to the north of Scotland to visit some country folk who were his near relations. The good people were outrageously glad to see him, and literally killed the fatted calf, and concocted all sorts of country dainties in order to celebrate the advent of their distinguished guest, who it seems, in this case, was in less danger of starving than of being stuffed to death.
Having partaken at dinner of all, and perhaps of rather more than he required, he did his best to resist their further importunities for him to eat more, but finding his refusal to do so increased their anxiety to force upon him the good things they had to bestow, he spread a large silk pocket-handkerchief upon his knees, under cover of the table-cloth, into which he contrived dexterously to empty the contents of his plate, whenever the eye of his watchful hostess was off him. At last, even her importunities for him to continue the feast grew fainter, and she wound up by exclaiming, “You ha’ made a verra puir dinner, Sir; ye ha’ just eaten nothing ava’.”
At this speech, hardly able to keep his gravity, he placed his handkerchief upon the table, and displayed its contents of fish, flesh, fowl, and confectionaries, to his astonished entertainers, exclaiming, as he did so, “My dear Madam, think what would have become of me, had I eaten all this!”