Robert slowly looked around him at the sea of faces, and suddenly a feeling of resentment filled his heart. Must he parade himself before these empty-headed noodles, who regarded him in the light of a curiosity, a plaything, to amuse them by his antics? Why didn’t they ask Mr. Mackenzie or Mr. Sterne or Dr. Blacklock, Mr. Ramsay, or any one of the others to read from their books? “I must ask ye to excuse me to-night,” he replied coldly. “I have been speaking in the open air and my voice is tired.” “Then I will recite in your stead,” cried Eppy, determined to make an impression on the romantic young farmer. They crowded around her, laughing and joking, for poor Eppy was the innocent, unsuspecting butt of society. “What is your selection?” someone asked seriously. “’Tis about the cunning little animal Mr. Burns saw on the lady’s bonnet,” replied Eppy. “The lady’s name was—er——” She paused and looked inquiringly into Robert’s grimly amused face. “Ye would be very much surprised, perhaps shocked and grieved, Miss McKay,” he answered, “were I to mention the lady’s name here, so I’ll spare your feelings. Please recite the poem.” Eppy made a deep courtesy, blissfully unconscious that the lady in question was none else than herself. And after arranging her dress to her satisfaction, cleared her throat affectedly and made several ineffectual attempts to begin the recitation. Gradually a look of comical despair puckered up her face, and turning to Robert with an embarrassed giggle, she exclaimed poutingly, “I cannot recall a single line. How provoking, and I protest. I knew every line by rote this morning. Please start me on the first verse, Mr. Burns.” The spectacle of this silly old woman making a fool of herself before that heartless crowd both annoyed and embarrassed Robert. “The last verse is my favorite,” he replied, frowning angrily at the amused titters which reached his ears from all sides, and quickly he read the verse through: “Oh wad some power the giftie gie us To see ourselves as others see us. It wad fra many a blunder free us, and foolish notion What airs in dress and gait wad leave us, and e’en devotion.” And none knew whether the shaft was pointed at them or at the object of their mirth, who stood before him with clasped hands and a smile meant to be winning on her weak face, listening with all her senses. “How true that is,” murmured Lady Glencairn. “Yes, indeed,” sighed Eppy soulfully. “What fools some people make of themselves, and they never know it, which is the funny part of it.” She darted a quick glance at Lady Glencairn, who returned the look calmly and evenly, although she was saying to herself, “Is she the fool she appears, or is she giving me a dig, I wonder?” She turned to Robert. “Mr. Burns, will you find me a chair, please; I am rather fatigued, standing so long.”