"Oh, my dear, he must come over for it!" said her sister.

"He will," replied Mrs. Ramornie; and they knew that point was settled.

"To tell the honest truth, I'm devoutly thankful for one thing,"
observed Andrew, with the first smile he had permitted himself, and even
it was appropriately grim: "this will put Madge Dunbar's nose out of
joint."

"Thank Heaven for that!" replied Mrs. Ramornie devoutly.

"She meant to get him," said Mrs. Donaldson. "I never saw a woman try
harder."

"If you'd been living in the house, you'd have seen still more of her
trying," replied her brother.

Another fierce shower beat upon the window, with it the gale rose higher
and the branches clashed more noisily. Even behind curtains one felt in
the presence of something elemental. Silence fell on the three, and when
they spoke again it was more solemnly than ever.

"It will make a considerable difference to us all, of course," said Mrs.
Donaldson.

Her brother seemed to take this as a question, for he nodded gravely and
answered--

"Oh, decidedly it will make that."

She mused for a moment and then turned to her sister.

"What was the name of the shoot the Hendersons had last season?"

"Glenfiddle."

"They paid two hundred, didn't they?"

"Two hundred and twenty," said Andrew.

He was a mine of information on the affairs of his acquaintances,
especially on what they paid for things.

"Can you not get enough invitations in the meantime?" asked Mrs.
Ramornie.

"Oh, dozens. But we want a little shoot of our own--when we can afford
it."

"I only mean to build that new conservatory we've always been talking
about," said Mrs. Ramornie; and Andrew pursed his lips and nodded his
approval. The pursing was meant as a hint of criticism on their too
dashing sister.

It was at that moment that there came the first gentle tap upon the
door.

"Come in," said Andrew, and the invalid's nurse entered.

"Mr. Walkingshaw would like a pint bottle of champagne," said she.

The junior partner stared first at her and then at his sisters. They in
turn opened their eyes.

"Is it the--er--usual thing?" he inquired.

"The doctor said nothing about it. Who would ever imagine he was going
to want champagne again?"

"Is it ever given?" asked Andrew cautiously.

"Oh, I know it's given," interposed Mrs. Ramornie decisively. "George's
uncle drank it up to five minutes before he died."

George's uncle had been a very bad example. At the sam