low, and the high walls of a garden
rising before him in the dark. The Lodge (as the place was named) stood,
indeed, very solitary. To the south it adjoined another house, but
standing in so large a garden as to be well out of cry; on all other
sides, open fields stretched upward to the woods of Corstorphine Hill,
or backward to the dells of Ravelston, or downward towards the valley of
the Leith. The effect of seclusion was aided by the great height of the
garden walls, which were, indeed, conventual, and, as John had tested in
former days, defied the climbing schoolboy. The lamp of the cab threw a
gleam upon the door and the not brilliant handle of the bell.

"Shall I ring for ye?" said the cabman, who had descended from his
perch, and was slapping his chest, for the night was bitter.

"I wish you would," said John, putting his hand to his brow in one of
his accesses of giddiness.

The man pulled at the handle, and the clanking of the bell replied from
further in the garden; twice and thrice he did it, with sufficient
intervals; in the great, frosty silence of the night the sounds fell
sharp and small.

"Does he expect ye?" asked the driver, with that manner of familiar
interest that well became his port-wine face; and when John had told him
no, "Well, then," said the cabman, "if ye'll tak' my advice of it, we'll
just gang back. And that's disinterested, mind ye, for my stables are in
the Glesgie road."

"The servants must hear," said John.

"Hout!" said the driver. "He keeps no servants here, man. They're a' in
the town house; I drive him often; it's just a kind of a hermitage
this."

"Give me the bell," said John; and he plucked at it like a man
desperate.

The clamour had not yet subsided before they heard steps upon the
gravel, and a voice of singular nervous irritability cried to them
through the door, "Who are you, and what do you want?"

"Alan," said John, "it's me--it's Fatty--John, you know. I'm just come
home, and I've come to stay with you."

There was no reply for a moment, and then the door was opened.

"Get the portmanteau down," said John to the driver.

"Do nothing of the kind," said Alan; and then to John, "Come in here a
moment. I want to speak to you."

John entered the garden, and the door was closed behind him. A candle
stood on the gravel walk, winking a little in the draughts; it threw
inconstant sparkles on the clumped holly, struck the light and darkness
to and fro like a veil