I'll awa' up to the la'.

Make a' the confusion ye can; but be sure ye keep out the strange servant." With these charges to his ally, Caleb posted up to the hall, but stopping to reconnoitre through an aperture, which time, for the convenience of many a domestic in succession, had made in the door, and perceiving the situation of Miss Ashton, he had prudence enough to make a pause, both to avoid adding to her alarm and in order to secure attention to his account of the disastrous effects of the thunder.
But when he perceived that the lady was recovered, and heard the conversation turn upon the accommodation and refreshment which the castle afforded, he thought it time to burst into the room in the manner announced in the last chapter.
"Willawins!--willawins! Such a misfortune to befa' the house of Ravenswood, and I to live to see it." "What is the matter, Caleb ?" said his master, somewhat alarmed in his turn; "has any part of the castle fallen ?" "Castle fa'an! na, but the sute's fa'an, and the thunner's come right down the kitchen-lum, and the things are a' lying here awa', there awa', like the Laird o' Hotchpotch's lands; and wi' brave guests of honour and quality to entertain (a low bow here to Sir William Ashton and his daughter), and naething left in the house fit to present for dinner, or for supper either, for aught that I can see!" "I very believe you, Caleb," said Ravenswood, drily.

Balderstone here turned to his master a half-upbraiding, half-imploring countenance, and edged towards him as he repeated, "It was nae great matter of preparation; but just something added to your honour's ordinary course of fare--petty cover, as they say at the Louvre--three courses and the fruit." "Keep your intolerable nonsense to yourself, you old fool!" said Ravenswood, mortified at his officiousness, yet not knowing how to contradict him, without the risk of giving rise to scenes yet more ridiculous.
Caleb saw his advantage, and resolved to improve it.

But first, observing that the Lord Keeper's servant entered the apartment and spoke apart with his master, he took the same opportunity to whisper a few words into Ravenswood's ear: "Haud your tongue, for heaven's sake, sir; if it's my pleasure to hazard my soul in telling lees for the honour of the family, it's nae business o' yours; and if ye let me gang on quietly, I'se be moderate in my banquet; but if ye contradict me, deil but I dress ye a dinner fit for a duke!" Ravenswood, in fact, thought it would be best to let his officious butler run on, who proceeded to enumerate upon his fingers--"No muckle provision--might hae served four persons of honour,--first course, capons in white broth--roast kid--bacon with reverence; second course, roasted leveret--butter crabs--a veal florentine; third course, blackcock--it's black eneugh now wi' the sute--plumdamas--a tart--a flam--and some nonsense sweet things, adn comfits--and that's a'," he said, seeing the impatience of his master--"that's just a' was o't--forbye the apples and pears." Miss Ashton had by degrees gathered her spirits, so far as to pay some attention to what was going on; and observing the restrained impatience of Ravenswood, contrasted with the peculiar determination of manner with which Caleb detailed his imaginary banquet, the whole struck her as so ridiculous that, despite every effort to the contrary, she burst into a fit of incontrollable laughter, in which she was joined by her father, though with more moderation, and finally by the Master of Ravenswood himself, though conscious that the jest was at his own expense.

Their mirth--for a scene which we read with little emotion often appears extremely ludicrous to the spectators--made the old vault ring again.
They ceased--they renewed--they ceased--they renewed again their shouts of laughter! Caleb, in the mean time, stood his ground with a grave, angry, and scornful dignity, which greatly enhanced the ridicule of the scene and mirth of the spectators.
At length, when the voices, and nearly the strength, of the laughers were exhausted, he exclaimed, with very little ceremony: "The deil's in the gentles! they breakfast sae lordly, that the loss of the best dinner ever cook pat fingers to makes them as merry as if it were the best jeest in a' George Buchanan.