“I was smiling at myself, John,” answered the accused. John was curious. “What for?” “For thinking there were things more interesting here, than the pillar that hid Rob Roy. Come along--never mind. Where are they all bound for, now?” They were bound for a very dissimilar place--no other than the crowded Broomielaw, where John’s brothers were bent upon showing their Edinburgh cousin, Cuthbert Charteris, and an English stranger who accompanied them, one or two fine ships belonging to “the house” then in port. These young men were the sons of a prosperous merchant, all of them already in harness in the office, and beginning to make private ventures on their own behalf. There were three of them--Richard, Alick, and John Buchanan; the two elder had reached the full dignity of young manhood, and rejoiced in mighty whiskers, which John, poor fellow, could only covet intensely, and cultivate with all his might; but even John had begun to have the shrewd man of business engrafted on the boy, and was sometimes precociously calculating, and commercial--sometimes disagreeably swaggering and loud--though not unfrequently simple, foolish, and generous, as better became his years. “I say, Cuthbert,” said the communicative John, as he swung his arm through his grave cousin’s, and followed his gay brothers on the way to the river, “did you ever see Harry Muir? Dick says he’s going to make him come and dine with us to-night.” “And who is Harry Muir?” asked Charteris. “Oh, he’s nobody--only a clerk in the office you know--but you never saw such a clever chap. He can sing anything you like. He’s a grand singer. And when Harry’s in a good humour, you should just hear him with the fellows in the office. My father looks out of his own room sometimes to see what’s the row, and there’s Gilchrist sucking his pen, and Macauley and Alick close down over their books, writing for a race, and Muir quite cool, and looking as innocent as can be. You should just see them, and see how puzzled my father is, when he finds that there’s no row at all!” “And in such emergencies, how do you behave yourself, Johnnie?” “Johnnie! I wish you’d just mind that I’m not a boy now.” “Jack, then! Will that please you, young man,” said Charteris, smiling. “Me? I behave the best way I can,” said the mollified John. “The best plan is, to set to working, and never let on that you hear the door open; but we like to get him among a lot of us when there’s nobody in the way; and you’ll just see to-night, Cuthbert, what a grand fellow he is for fun.” Cuthbert did not look very much delighted. “And when is this famous dinner to be?” he asked. “Is Dick to entertain us at home?” Master John burst into a great laugh. “Man, Cuthbert, what a simple fellow you are! You don’t think my mother would ask Harry Muir to dine.” “And why not, my boy?” asked the Edinburgh advocate.