"A clear title is beyond the government," interrupted Madame, "and the government needna' fash itsel' about titles. Nane that can be made will hold good much longer for the government. Sit down, Neil, and see if you can steady your father a bit; he's as much excited about a ride wi' auld DeLancey as if King George himsel' had gien him a ride in his chariot;" and she flipped her dress scornfully to the words as she left the room to give some household order. "You vera near told tales on me, Neil," said the old man gleefully; "and there's nae need to mention the bit o' scrimmage till we see if it's finished. The lad might send me a challenge," he added with a little mirthful laugh. "Not he, father! If he did, I should quickly answer it." "You would mind your ain business, sir. As long as I bide in this warld I'll do my ain fighting, if I die for it." "There's none can do it better, father. Errol told me your scorn overwhelmed Macpherson; and he said, moreover, that if the quarrel had come to blows he had no doubt you would have caned the scoundrel consumedly. They are talking of the affair all over town, and DeLancey is quite beyond himself about it. I heard him say that, though your hands quivered with passion, you stood firm as a rock, and that there were a few minutes at the last when no man could have tackled you safely." Then there was a sudden pause, for Madame reentered, and the Elder looked at her in a way so full of triumph and self-satisfaction that he troubled her. "To think o' Alexander Semple being sae set up wi' DeLancey's nod and smile," she thought. Then Neil turned the conversation on the social events of the day, and the topic allowed Madame some scope for the relief of her annoyance. Yet her anxiety about her husband continued, for the Elder was in extraordinarily high spirits. His piquant, pawkie humor finally alarmed Madame. "Alexander," she said, "you had better go awa' to your bed. I dinna like to hear you joking out o' season, as it were. What has come o'er you, man?" "Hear to your mother, Neil!" he answered. "When I sit still and silent, she asks, 'Have you naething to say, auld man?' and when I say something she doesna' like my way o' joking, and is for sending me awa' to bed for it, as if I was a bairn. However, the day is o'er, and we hae had the glory o' it, and may as weel get rested for the day to come." He left the room in his old sober fashion, with a blessing and a "Good-night, children," and Madame followed him. Maria rose with her; she was anxious to carry her thoughts into solitude. But Neil sat still by the fireside, dreaming of Agnes Bradley, and yet finding the dream often invaded by the thought of the retributive scene in the parlor of the King's Arms. And perhaps never in all his life had Neil loved and honored his father more sincerely.