sking, hopping,
dancing, and singing the burden of an old ballad--

'Our gear's a' gane,'

until, happening to pass too near the Bailie, he received an admonitory
hint from his horse-whip, which converted his songs into lamentation.

Passing from thence towards the garden, Waverley beheld the Baron in
person, measuring and re-measuring, with swift and tremendous strides,
the length of the terrace; his countenance clouded with offended pride
and indignation, and the whole of his demeanour such as seemed to
indicate, that any inquiry concerning the cause of his discomposure would
give pain at least, if not offence. Waverley therefore glided into the
house, without addressing him, and took his way to the breakfast-parlour,
where he found his young friend Rose, who, though she neither exhibited
the resentment of her father, the turbid importance of Bailie Macwheeble,
nor the despair of the handmaidens, seemed vexed and thoughtful. A single
word explained the mystery. 'Your breakfast will be a disturbed one,
Captain Waverley. A party of Caterans have come down upon us last night,
and have driven off all our milch cows.'

'A party of Caterans?'

'Yes; robbers from the neighbouring Highlands. We used to be quite free
from them while we paid blackmail to Fergus Mac-Ivor Vich Ian Vohr; but
my father thought it unworthy of his rank and birth to pay it any longer,
and so this disaster has happened. It is not the value of the cattle,
Captain Waverley, that vexes me; but my father is so much hurt at the
affront, and is so bold and hot, that I fear he will try to recover them
by the strong hand; and if he is not hurt himself, he will hurt some of
these wild people, and then there will be no peace between them and us
perhaps for our life-time; and we cannot defend ourselves as in old
times, for the government have taken all our arms; and my dear father is
so rash--O what will become of us!'--Here poor Rose lost heart
altogether, and burst into a flood of tears.

The Baron entered at this moment, and rebuked her with more asperity than
Waverley had ever heard him use to any one. 'Was it not a shame,' he
said, 'that she should exhibit herself before any gentleman in such a
light, as if she shed tears for a drove of horned nolt and milch kine,
like the daughter of a Cheshire yeoman!--Captain Waverley, I must request
your favourable construction of her grief, which may, or ought to
proceed, solely from seeing her father's estate