t his father and I were the ones to take
the affair upon our shoulders. He even volunteered to visit the duke
himself in Tod's behalf.

"And in your own tongue," asked Sandy, "what would ye say when ye got
there?"

"Ye might just call him a scoundrel, as ye suggested Nancy's doing. His
grace might receive it better coming from a man," I said cheerfully.

"Sit ye down, lad," Sandy said at length; "sit ye down. And stop making
a windmill of your arms as ye stand on that rise, or we may think we
are all Dutch folk together; and just give over thinking ye know all
women, because ye've made love to some senseless London fillies with no
brains in their heads whatever. It's a wise man that understands that
no two women are alike. John Stair and I have seen something of life in
our time, aye, and something of women; but Nancy's a different creature
from anything in our ken. Ye might just trust a little to our judgment
of her."

If Danvers were abashed by this speech he showed it never a whit, but
stood very erect, his brows drawn into a scowl not unlike Nancy's own,
glowering first at his father and then at me. Sandy, who was, in his
mind's eye, re-rigging a schooner, went on with his paper-and-pencil
work, unconscious of his son's scrutiny. I dropped my eyes to the Allan
Ramsay, which I had opened at random, but lost nothing of Danvers's
conduct, and liked him for it. He had known but the women who needed
protection, and his attitude to my mind bespoke the chivalrous
gentleman.

"Will she go alone?" he inquired abruptly.

"She will probably take Father Michel."

"And might I inquire without discourtesy who Father Michel is?"

"He is a priest who came up with us from Landgore, and the best man I
ever knew," said I. "'Tis he who attends to the burn people."

"And will he tell her what to say to his Grace of Borthwicke?"

"She will not need to be told," I answered. "Indeed, Dandy Carmichael,
this is not the first time she has gone on such errands."

"And does she get her way?"

"She has never failed yet."

"It's true," Danvers went on, "that I've met none of her kind, but if
she go to the Duke of Borthwicke, as man to man----"

"She will not go as man to man," Sandy broke in with a smile. "She will
go as woman to man. There's a mighty differ."

"You see, Dandy," said I, trying to smooth the talk a bit, "although
she's my own, there's sure no harm in my saying that she is an
extraordinary creature. That she has