n-master to let me know (if Miss Silvester does take the railway)
what place she books for. Thanks to that arrangement, we sha'n't have
to wait for news till Duncan can telegraph that he has seen her to her
journey's end. In the mean time, you understand what you are wanted to
do here?"

"Blanche has explained every thing to me."

"Stick to your post, and make good use of your eyes. You were accustomed
to that, you know, when you were at sea. It's no great hardship to pass
a few hours in this delicious summer air. I see you have contracted the
vile modern habit of smoking--that will be occupation enough to amuse
you, no doubt! Keep the roads in view; and, if she does come your
way, don't attempt to stop her--you can't do that. Speak to her (quite
innocently, mind!), by way of getting time enough to notice the face of
the man who is driving her, and the name (if there is one) on his cart.
Do that, and you will do enough. Pah! how that cigar poisons the air!
What will have become of your stomach when you get to my age?"

"I sha'n't complain, Sir Patrick, if I can eat as good a dinner as you
do."

"That reminds me! I met somebody I knew at the station. Hester Dethridge
has left her place, and gone to London by the train. We may feed at
Windygates--we have done with dining now. It has been a final quarrel
this time between the mistress and the cook. I have given Hester my
address in London, and told her to let me know before she decides on
another place. A woman who _can't_ talk, and a woman who _can_ cook, is
simply a woman who has arrived at absolute perfection. Such a treasure
shall not go out of the family, if I can help it. Did you notice the
Bechamel sauce at lunch? Pooh! a young man who smokes cigars
doesn't know the difference between Bechamel sauce and melted
butter. Good afternoon! good afternoon!"

He slackened the reins, and away he went to Craig Fernie. Counting by
years, the pony was twenty, and the pony's driver was seventy. Counting
by vivacity and spirit, two of the most youthful characters in Scotland
had got together that afternoon in the same chaise.

An hour more wore itself slowly out; and nothing had passed Arnold on
the cross-roads but a few stray foot-passengers, a heavy wagon, and a
gig with an old woman in it. He rose again from the heather, weary of
inaction, and resolved to walk backward and forward, within view of his
post, for a change. At the second turn, when his face happened to be se