He eyed her for a moment with sullen opposition, then stepped away from the window without a word. He had an uneasy sensation that when Kirsteen was his opponent the case did not always go his way. “A great deal ye care, any of ye, for me and my wishes,” he said. “Who was it sent that deevil of a woman to my own business-room, where, if any place, a man may expect to be left in peace? No to disturb me! Ye would disturb me if I was on my deathbed for any confounded nonsense of your ain.” “I am sure, Drumcarro,” his wife replied, beginning to cry. “Sure--you’re sure of nothing but what she tells ye. If it were not for one thing more than another I would turn her out of my house.” “Dinna do that--oh, dinna do that, if it’s Marg’ret you’re meaning,” cried Mrs. Douglas, clasping her hands. “She’s just a stand-by for everything about the place, and the best cook that ever was--and thinks of your interest, Drumcarro, though maybe ye will not believe it, far above her own. And if you take away Marg’ret I’ll just lie down and die--for there will be no comfort more.” “You’re very keen to die--in words; but I never see any signs in you of keeping to it,” he said; then drawing forward a chair to the fire, pushing against Kirsteen, who drew back hurriedly, he threw himself down in it, in the midst of the women who moved their seats hastily on either side to give him room. “What’s this,” he said, “about some nonsense down at the Castle that is turning all your silly heads? and what does it mean?” Mrs. Douglas was too frightened to speak, and as for Kirsteen she was very little disposed to take advantage of the milder frame of mind in which her father seemed to be to wheedle or persuade him into a consent. It was Mary who profited by the unusual opportunity. “It’s just the ball, father,--that the Duke gives when he comes home.” “The Duke,” said he. “The Duke is as auld a man as I am, and balls or any other foolishness, honest man, I reckon they’re but little in his way.” “He does not do it for himself, father--there’s the young lords and ladies that like a little diversion. And all the folk besides from far and near--that are good enough,” Mary said adroitly. “There are some that say he’s too particular and keeps many out.” “Nobody can be too particular, if he’s a duke or if he’s a commoner,” said Mr. Douglas. “A good pedigree is just your only safeguard--and not always that,” he added after a moment, looking at her steadily. “You’ll be one that likes a little diversion too?” “And that I am, father,” said Mary, suddenly grown into the boldest of the party, exhilarated and stimulated, she could scarcely tell how, by a sentiment of success that seemed to have got into the air. Mrs. Douglas here interposed, anxious apparently lest her daughter should go too far. “No beyond measure, Drumcarro--just in reason, as once I liked it well myself.”