"Good spirit, i' faith!" said Scarlett, nodding his head approvingly; but the Little Marie, coming to them with heightened color and angry eyes, did not again set herself on the arm of Wat Gordon's chair. Instead she drew a high stool to the side of the table, midway between Wat and Scarlett. Then she placed her arm upon the table-cloth, and leaned her chin upon the palms of her hands. "Abide by us," said Walter, who could not bear that so fair and light a thing should be left to the ill-guided mercies of such a mangy pack as were drinking at the next table. The second supply of Rhenish, with the capable assistance of Scarlett, sank apace in its tall flask, and at each glass Wat's voice mounted higher and higher. He could be heard all over the room declaiming upon the merits of Scottish men, offering to defend with his life the virtue and beauty of Scottish maids, or in case none should be willing to call these in question, then he was equally ready to draw sword on behalf of the dignity and incorruptibility of Scottish judges. The guest-room of the Coronation was for a while disposed to listen with amused wonder. Presently the four men at the table near Wat became five. The new-comer proved to be a short-necked, red-faced, deeply-scarred man, dressed in the uniform of the provost-marshal's guards. The wine in Wat's brain prevented him for the time from recognizing his ancient enemy, Haxo the Bull; but Haxo the Bull nevertheless it was. Scarlett was now most anxious to get Wat away in safety. There was also a gleam of almost piteous appeal in the eyes of the Little Marie. "My captain," she said, bending over and laying her hand on his sleeve, "it is high time for you to go to your quarters; you can come and see me again in the morning if you will." For Wat was now talking louder than ever, and beating for emphasis upon the table with his hand. "And I repeat that whoever casts a slur upon the virtue and beauty of a Scots maid has to settle accounts with Wat Gordon of Lochinvar--" The men at the nearest table had also begun talking loudly, and the voice of Haxo pierced the din. "I tell you the girl is safely my master's meat, and she is a dainty filly enough. Her name is Kate McGhie, and she is a land-owner's daughter somewhere in the barren land of Scots. My lord bought her good-will quickly enough with a gay present for herself and a commission for her gossip's loutish husband--trust Barra for that. He is never laggard in his affairs with women." Wat Gordon was on his feet in an instant. The Little Marie instinctively shrank aside from the white fierce face which she encountered. It looked like the countenance of some one whom she had never seen. The young man fairly spurned the table at which he had been sitting, and with a single spring he was over the next and at the breast of Haxo the Bull.