and shall ever be to those of the house of Tillietudlem."

"Weel, madam," said Mysie, making the alterations required, "it's easy
mending the error; but if every thing is just to be as his majesty left
it, there should be an unco hole in the venison pasty."

At this moment the door opened.

"Who is that, John Gudyill?" exclaimed the old lady. "I can speak to no
one just now.--Is it you, my dear brother?" she continued, in some
surprise, as the Major entered; "this is a right early visit."

"Not more early than welcome, I hope," replied Major Bellenden, as he
saluted the widow of his deceased brother; "but I heard by a note which
Edith sent to Charnwood about some of her equipage and books, that you
were to have Claver'se here this morning, so I thought, like an old
firelock as I am, that I should like to have a chat with this rising
soldier. I caused Pike saddle Kilsythe, and here we both are."

"And most kindly welcome you are," said the old lady; "it is just what I
should have prayed you to do, if I had thought there was time. You see I
am busy in preparation. All is to be in the same order as when"--"The
king breakfasted at Tillietudlem," said the Major, who, like all Lady
Margaret's friends, dreaded the commencement of that narrative, and was
desirous to cut it short,--"I remember it well; you know I was waiting on
his majesty."

"You were, brother," said Lady Margaret; "and perhaps you can help me to
remember the order of the entertainment."

"Nay, good sooth," said the Major, "the damnable dinner that Noll gave us
at Worcester a few days afterwards drove all your good cheer out of my
memory.--But how's this?--you have even the great Turkey-leather
elbow-chair, with the tapestry cushions, placed in state."

"The throne, brother, if you please," said Lady Margaret, gravely.

"Well, the throne be it, then," continued the Major. "Is that to be
Claver'se's post in the attack upon the pasty?"

"No, brother," said the lady; "as these cushions have been once honoured
by accommodating the person of our most sacred Monarch, they shall never,
please Heaven, during my life-time, be pressed by any less dignified
weight."

"You should not then," said the old soldier, "put them in the way of an
honest old cavalier, who has ridden ten miles before breakfast; for, to
confess the truth, they look very inviting. But where is Edith?"

"On the battlements of the warder's turret," answered the old lady,
"looking out for th