“And there’s your friend, that lawyer fellow--your business man, I suppose, Allenders--he wasn’t with you; a couple of slow chaps, that advocate and him,” continued the sapient Mr. Gilbert. “I wouldn’t give twopence for such society. If they’re not as flat as the canal and as slow as a heavy boat, I’m no judge.” “It happens that we are all indebted to Mr. Charteris, and that he is a friend of ours,” said Martha, quickly, “I believe Harry is proud to call him so.” “And I am sure I never met a pleasanter man,” stole in Agnes. And the eyes of Rose gleamed positive lightning upon the redoubtable Gilbert. But Rose, though she ventured upon a little short prefatory cough, said nothing. “By-the-bye,” said Harry, hurriedly, “you have not seen the grounds, Allenders; come and give me your opinion of them.” “Delighted, if the ladies will accompany us,” said Mr. Gilbert; “otherwise, Harry, I am much obliged, but can’t be detached from such fair company.” And Gilbert returned, with a glance of very unequivocal admiration, the indignant flash of Rose’s eye. A pause of general disconcertment followed; irritated and defiant, Harry tossed about the books upon a little table near him, and moodily evaded the looks which sought his face. Mr. Gilbert Allenders, the only person present at ease, pulled up his high collar, and settled his long chin comfortably upon his stock, while Agnes, in a little flutter of anxious deprecation and peace-making, began to move among her cups and saucers, and to prepare tea. “We have never had the pleasure of seeing you in Stirling yet, Miss Muir,” said Gilbert, turning his back upon Martha, and addressing himself with great demonstration to Rose. “Haven’t you had my sisters out, calling? I thought so. They’re nice girls enough, considering they’ve been always in the country. Ah, there’s nothing like a season or two in London for polishing up a man.” “Have you been in London, Mr. Allenders?” asked Agnes. “Yes, three or four years; but I’m not quite a good specimen,” said Mr. Gilbert, modestly, “for I was at work all the time, studying very hard--oh! very hard;” and the painful student laughed loudly at his own boast of industry. “I say, Harry, Leith races come on next month--you’ll go with us, won’t you? there’s Simson and Allan and me; I said you would be sure to come.” “I don’t care a straw for Leith races,” said Harry, rudely; but notwithstanding he raised his head, and looked by no means so indifferent as he spoke. “Care! who said anybody cared?” answered Gilbert; “one must go to lots of places one doesn’t care a straw for--it becomes a duty to society. I’ll undertake to say you’ll come, Harry. We needn’t be more than a couple of days away, and the ladies won’t miss you. Permit me, Miss Muir.”