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!"

It was no feast of reason, at the honest Greggs; the entertainment was
of the most animal kind, and Flora felt relieved when it was over, and
the whole party issued once more into the pure air.

She was just hastening to a parterre, gay with roses, to rifle some of
its sweets, when the old gentleman came panting hard upon her track. "Ye
must come an' see my raree-show, before the sun gangs doun," he cried;
and Flora turned and followed him back into the house. In the hall the
whole family party were collected.

"I'll gang first, father, and open the door," cried a merry boy of
fourteen, and beckoning to Jim, they both clattered after each other up
the old-fashioned stai