Through Sir Jasper Dehorsey and Mr. Tom Hawksleigh, a rumour certainly was spread abroad that he had been on the Continent 'with such a stunning girl;' and old Cad (as he was often called) was rather inclined to adopt the soft impeachment, and the idea that 'he was a dog--a gay spark yet--and all that sort of thing, don't you know.' But when Dehorsey spoke of the affair, he little knew the rank, position, or character of the girl he referred to, and the risks she had run through the brutal selfishness and mischievous spirit of himself and Hawksleigh, when by falsehoods, and in her confusion, they had lured her to the Café au Progrès. At Chilcote, Archie Auchindoir speedily became master of the news concerning the birthday gift. 'A thousand pounds, my certie, is there as much money in a' the warld!' he exclaimed. 'Troth, Sir Ranald, he that hath routh o' butter may put it on baith sides o' his bannock.' 'I don't know,' said Sir Ranald, peevishly, to Alison, 'why I brought that fellow back again. A Caleb Balderstone is an anachronism in nineteenth century society.' 'He is so good and faithful, papa--dear old Archie.' 'Yes; but, like all such faithful old fellows, he is a shocking tyrant--is too much _au fait_ at all one's private affairs, and deems himself quite a family institution--as much a Cheyne as ourselves.' But Alison had not the heart to resent Archie's gladness that the gift--whoever it came from--'would keep the wolf from the door,' as she thought it might keep the black hound too! Archie had a profound dislike of Lord Cadbury, and once he ventured to say to Alison, 'Wi' a' his wealth, I'd as soon see you in your coffin as the Leddy o' Cadbury Court; but anent this,' he asked, abruptly, in a low voice, 'where is Captain Goring?' Alison coloured, but said, in a low, cooing voice, 'Could YOU find out for me, Archie, like an old dear, as you are?' 'I will--I'll ask at the Camp, if I tramp every yard o' the way and back again.' 'Oh, thank you so much, Archie.' 'I would like to see you married to him, missie,' said the old man, patting her shoulder. 'Ah, we are too poor yet, Archie,' said Alison, but the next remark, while it made her laugh, brought a hot blush to her cheek. 'Owre puir! Hoot, fye! Think o' a Cheyne o' Essilmont saying that--Essilmont where mony a time a hundred o' your name and mair have had their horses in stall--ilk man boden in effeir o' war?' exclaimed Archie, his old grey eyes flashing as he spoke. 'No--it is feeding little mouths ye think o'; but, odds sake, Miss Alison, they'd bring mair gowd in their yellow curls than they'd ever tak' frae ye in bannocks and shoon. God never sends a little mouth into this world without food for it; and, if it is a certain care, it is a sure joy.'