humbug?"

"I canna tell," said the cautious old general, with a sly shake of the
head; "I can only say, sir, be ma saul, ye never humbugged _me!_"

This time the laugh was sincere, and actually shook the table. Mrs.
Kennyfeck, who now saw that Sir Andrew, to use the phrase employed
by his acquaintances, "was up," determined to withdraw, and made her
telegraphic signals, which soon were answered along the line, save by
Lady Janet, who stubbornly adhered to her glass of claret, with some
faint hope that the lagging decanter might arrive in her neighborhood
time enough for another.

Poor Mrs. Kennyfeck's devices to catch her eye were all in vain; as
well might some bore of the "House" hope for the Speaker's when he was
fixedly exchanging glances with "Sir Robert." She ogled and smiled, but
to no purpose.

"My Leddy,--Leddy Janet," said Sir Andrew.

"I hear you, sir; I heard you twice already. If you please, my Lord, a
very little,--Mr. Linton, I beg for the water. I believe, Sir Andrew,
you have forgotten Mr. Gosford's kind remembrances to the Dean."

"Faith, and so I did, my Leddy. He asks after ye, Mr. Dean, wi' muckle
kindness and affection, and says he never had a hearty laugh syne the
day ye tried to teach Lady Caroline Jedyard to catch a sheep!"

The Dean looked stern, and Linton asked for the secret.

"It was by hauding the beast atween yer knees, and so when the Dean pit
himself i' the proper position, wi' his legs out, and the shepherd drove
the flock towards him, by sair ill-luck it was a ram cam first and he
hoisted his reverence up i' the air, and then laid him flat on his
back, amaist dead. Ech, sirs! but it was a sair fa', no' to speak o' the
damage done to his black breeches!"

This was too much for Lady Janet's endurance, and, amid the loud
laughter of some, and the more difficultly suppressed mirth of others,
the ladies arose.

"Yer na going, leddies! I hope that naething I said, Leddy Kilgoff,
Leddy Janet, ech. We mun e'en console ourselves wi' the claret." This
was said _sotto_, as the door closed and the party reseated themselves
at the table.

"My Jo Janet _does_ like to bide a wee," muttered he, half aloud.

"Jo!" cried the Dean, "is derived from the Italian; it's a term of
endearment in both languages. It's a corruption of _Gioia mia_."

"What may that mean?"

"My joy! my life!"

"Eh, that's it, is it? Ah, sir, these derivatives gat mony a twist and
turn in the way from one land t