dvancing straight up to him, exclaimed--

"Your father is off his head!"

The junior partner eyed her warily, divided between suspicion and a glow
of sympathy with her opinion.

"What has he done now?" he inquired gloomily.

"He has treated me exactly as he has treated you!"

The sympathy deepened; the suspicion began to ooze away; but all he
remarked was, "Oh?"

He was indeed a magnificently cautious man.

"What can we do?" she cried.

Andrew scrutinized her carefully. She might be fibbing; she might be up
to some of her tricks again; this might even be a move arranged with his
father. One could not be too prudent.

"What do you propose to do?" he asked.

"Bring him to his senses if it's possible: if not--Oh, Andrew, his
conduct is infamous! I don't care what we do to punish--I mean to
restrain him."

At last, after many days' abstinence, the junior partner smiled. It was
not a very wide, nor in the least a merry smile; his cheeks bulged only
slightly under its gentle pressure, and the satisfaction which smiles
traditionally notify seemed savored with a squeeze or two of lemon. But
it marked the beginning of a new coalition, an ominous disturbance of
the balance of power.

"That is exactly the point I have under consideration myself," he said.
"The difficulty is, how is it to be managed?"

She seated herself within twelve feet of him, and yet he did not shrink
from her now with modest mistrust.

"It seems to me perfectly obvious what we should do. Just offer him an
alternative."

"What alternative?" asked Andrew.

* * * * *

Meanwhile, Mr. Walkingshaw was spending one of the happiest evenings he
remembered. There was indeed some slight constraint in the drawing-room
so long as his sister remained there, but when, after a series of sighs
which punctuated some twenty minutes' pointed silence, she at last bade
them a depressed good-night, the three happy lovers gave rein to their
hearts. Heriot gave the loosest rein of all. It almost seemed as if a
lover set at liberty was even happier than a lover just engaged. He had
that air of animated relief noticeable in the escaped victims of a
conscientious dentist. As for his children, they adored him little less
than they adored two other people who were not there.

Yet once or twice Jean fell thoughtful. At last she said--

"I wonder whether we ought to go out to the Comyns' to-morrow after
all?"

"My dear girl, why not?