st some of his control. He changed his stick from one hand to
the other, and--"O, for God's sake, don't be an ass!" he cried.

"Ass? That's the retort delicate without doubt," says Frank. "Beware of
the home-spun brothers, dear. If they come into the dance, you'll see
who's an ass. Think now, if they only applied (say) a quarter as much
talent as I have applied to the question of what Mr. Archie does with
his evening hours, and why he is so unaffectedly nasty when the
subject's touched on----"

"You are touching on it now," interrupted Archie, with a wince.

"Thank you. That was all I wanted, an articulate confession," said
Frank.

"I beg to remind you----" began Archie.

But he was interrupted in turn. "My dear fellow, don't. It's quite
needless. The subject's dead and buried."

And Frank began to talk hastily on other matters, an art in which he was
an adept, for it was his gift to be fluent on anything or nothing. But
although Archie had the grace or the timidity to suffer him to rattle
on, he was by no means done with the subject. When he came home to
dinner he was greeted with a sly demand, how things were looking
"Cauldstaneslap ways." Frank took his first glass of port out after
dinner to the toast of Kirstie, and later in the evening he returned to
the charge again.

"I say, Weir, you'll excuse me for returning again to this affair. I've
been thinking it over, and I wish to beg you very seriously to be more
careful. It's not a safe business. Not safe, my boy," said he.

"What?" said Archie.

"Well, it's your own fault if I must put a name on the thing; but
really, as a friend, I cannot stand by and see you rushing head down
into these dangers. My dear boy," said he, holding up a warning cigar,
"consider! What is to be the end of it?"

"The end of what?"--Archie, helpless with irritation, persisted in this
dangerous and ungracious guard.

"Well, the end of the milkmaid; or, to speak more by the card, the end
of Miss Christina Elliott of the Cauldstaneslap."

"I assure you," Archie broke out, "this is all a figment of your
imagination. There is nothing to be said against that young lady; you
have no right to introduce her name into the conversation."

"I'll make a note of it," said Frank. "She shall henceforth be nameless,
nameless, nameless, Gregarach! I make a note besides of your valuable
testimony to her character. I only want to look at this thing as a man
of the world. Admitted she's an angel