"No, my dear!" said Madam Passmore, pouring a little oil upon the turbulent waters; "no, I am sure he never would--never!" Madam Passmore's gentle deprecation of his wrath appeared to set the Squire free to explode a third time. "Lucy!" he exclaimed, turning to his wife, in one of the severest tones he had ever used to her, "I am a Whig, and my father was a Whig before me, and my grandfather fought for King Charles at Edgehill and Naseby: and I have brought up these children to be Whigs, and if they aren't, 'tis a burning shame! A murrain on the day that sent my Lady Ingram here after our Celia! But, hang it all! how can I help it?" said the Squire, suddenly breaking down. "If this fellow be Celia's brother, and have saved Harry's life, as a man of honor I could not bid them do otherwise than try to save his--no, not if he were the Pope himself! 'Tis not nature for a man to take sides against his own children. Botheration!" he concluded, suddenly veering round again; "that isn't what I meant to say at all. I intended to be very angry, and I have only been an old fool--that's what I am!" "You are a dear old father, who can't be cross when he thinks he ought to be--that's what you are!" said Lucy, coaxingly. "Get along with you, hussey!" returned the Squire, shaking his fist at her in a manner which Lucy very well knew was more than half make-believe. "And pray, Colonel Passmore, after allowing me to search the house three times and find nothing, I should like, if you please, to know where you hid your refugee?" "You shall see that, Father," said Harry, rising. And he led the way to the hiding-place, followed by the whole family, Cicely bringing up the rear when she heard the noise they made. Each member expressed his or her amazement in a characteristic manner. "Oh, my buttons! isn't that capital!" said Charley. "I wish I had known last night! It would have been ten times better fun!" "I think you enjoyed yourself sufficiently," returned his brother, gravely. "What a horrid, dark hole, Harry!" said Lucy. "I never knew of such a place here!" exclaimed his mother. "Well, Mr. Henry Falkland Passmore, you are an uncommon cool hand!" asserted his father. "And who helped you to get your Jacobite safely away, I wonder?" "Celia and Patient Irvine." "Did Patient know where he was, Harry?" asked his mother, gravely. "Not when Wallace questioned her. I told her afterwards." But the astonishment of the whole group faded before that of old Cicely Aggett.