"I'll manage it. Never fear, Robert, Christina shall be my lady Christina and you shall have the Wynton siller to trade with. It will be a righteous undertaking for me, for it is fairly sinful in Sir Thomas, hiding his hundred thousand talents--as it were--in a napkin. A bank is no better than a napkin; money is just folded away in it; and money is made round that it may roll. The Campbell works will set the hundred thousand pieces rolling and gathering more, and more, and still more. _Losh!_ it makes me tremble to think of them going out o' the Campbell road. That would be an unthinkable calamity." "If you can manage it, mother, it----" "'If'--there's no 'if' in the matter." She smiled and nodded, and seemed so sure of success, that Robert found it difficult to refrain himself from making certain calculations, dependent upon a larger capital. The next day at noon Mrs. Campbell remarked in a tone of inconvenience, or household discomfort: "I believe, girls, your brother is going to bring Sir Thomas Wynton home with him to-night. I am fairly wearied of the man's name." "He is a very fine gentleman, mother," said Christina. "He is auld, and auld-farrant." "He is not over forty-five, and he is far from being old-fashioned. He is up to the nick of the times in everything." "Your brother never thinks of any manly quality but money. He says Sir Thomas is rich. I wouldn't wonder if he has only the name o' riches. But, rich or poor, he is coming to dinner, and I be to see McNab anent the eatables. A very moderate dinner will do, I should say." "Make the finest dinner you can, mother, and it will be only a pot-luck affair to Sir Thomas," answered Christina. "He is rich, and he is powerful in politics, and he has one of the finest castles in Midlothian. He is well worth a good dinner, mother, and Robert will like to see he has one." "What do you say, Isabel?" "I say Robert is worth pleasing, mother. The other man is a problem, perhaps it may be worth while to please him, perhaps not. The negatives generally win, I've noticed that." "Well, well! The dinner is all we can cater for--there's accidentals anent every affair, and they are beyont us, as a rule. Are either of you going out this afternoon?" "There is nothing to take me out," said Isabel. "I was out late last night," said Christina. "I shall rest this afternoon. Sir Thomas is rather a weariness. We shall all be thankful when he makes his court bow and says, 'Good-night, ladies! I have had a perfectly delightsome evening.'" She boldly mimicked the baronet's broad Scotch speech and courtly debonair manner, without any fear of the cold silence, or cutting reproofs her mimicry used to provoke.