This privilege she always
claimed when I came to Disaways; fighting furiously, if the excellent
lady of the manor attempted to supplant her. Looking at her, as she ran
about now, engaged in her most admirable occupation, I thought her
lovelier than ever before--certainly than when talking in the woods
with Tom! You see she was getting my supper, reader!--and it seemed to
be a labor of love. The little fairy ran on her tiptoes from sideboard
to table; spread a snowy napkin, and placed a gilt china plate upon it;
made tea; covered the table with edibles; and placed beside my plate a
great goblet of yellow cream, of the consistency of syrup. Then she
poured out my tea, set my chair to the table, and came with courtesy
and laughing ceremony, to offer me her arm, and lead me to my seat.
Men are weak, worthy reader, and the most "romantic and poetical" of us
all, have much of the animal in us. That is a mortifying confession. I
was terribly hungry, and at that moment I think my attention was more
closely riveted on the table, than even upon Miss Katy with her roses
and ringlets.
I therefore unbuckled my sabre, placed the little hand on my arm, and
was about to proceed toward the table, when a shot, accompanied by a
shout, was heard from the direction of the Rowanty.
I went and buckled on my sword again.
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