Mr Oswald looked grave and frowned; he had lost his interest in the children; but his frown only provoked the bold spirit of his favourite daughter, who knew her own power. “They are only common people’s children,” continued Hope, with a good deal of warmth; “but they have a gentlewoman to teach them, papa; and Miss Swinton says that is the way to make people graceful. I am sure it is too--for if you only saw the girls who are not with Helen Buchanan!--because it’s not being rich that does any good;--people might have all the money in the world, and only be common people; but Helen Buchanan is a gentlewoman born!” The banker wisely withdrew into the shop, and, busying himself about the nuts, pretended not to have noticed the energetic speech which made Hope’s cheek burn and her eyes glow in the delivery. Mr Oswald was considerably afraid, for he saw that Hope was by no means an antagonist to be despised, and did not well know how to meet her fiery charges. Hope was indifferent about the nuts: she had begun her campaign, and felt all the glow and excitement of her first declaration of war. In the mean time, Lilias Maxwell had settled down quietly into her corner of Mrs Buchanan’s parlour. The rapid sympathy of Helen had already gathered up the loneliness, the wants and yearnings of the orphan, and all that were in sorrow had an unfailing claim upon the pity and tenderness of her mother. The calm face, so pensive and pale, and thoughtful, and the unquiet face with its constant life and motion, contrasted strangely, so near to each other; but their diverse currents of life had yet many points of harmony. Each was the only child of her mother: each had the self-knowledge which comes in solitude, and as they talked together, each came to recognise thoughts like her own, in a guise and form so different, that strange smiles almost mirthful brightened even the face of Lilias as they grew familiar. The stranger very soon ceased to be a stranger then, for even Mossgray was not so like home. CHAPTER XI. The auld guidwife’s weelhoordet nits Are round and round divided, And monie lads and lasses’ fates Are there that night decided. Some kindle, couthy, side by side, An’ burn thegither trimly, Some start awa’ wi’ saucy pride An’ jump out owre the chimlie, Fu’ high that night.--HALLOWE’EN. The juvenile party had assembled in Mrs Oswald’s drawing-room. The Fendies of Mount Fendie, the Maxwells of Firthside, the son and daughter of Dr Elliot, who rented Greenshaw, and several other scions of rural magnates. Hope had a secret feeling that she would have liked an auxiliary party of Helen Buchanan’s scholars in the kitchen, and should have had much better fun with them than among the young ladies and the young gentlemen, with their incipient flirtations and full dress.