There was much real humor in his relation of the inn gossip, and the brightness of his presence caused a gayer air to our small festivity. Our talk brought Nancy to the door, where she stood in a shaft of light looking down at us. "What are you laughing about?" she cried. At the sound of her voice Danvers sprang to his feet and went toward her with outstretched hand, but at the sight of her beauty or her jewels, I know not which, he changed his mind and made a sweeping bow instead. "And this," he said, "is the Miss Nancy of whom I have heard so much----" "Sandy's apt to mention me," she answered demurely. "He never did you justice," he responded, with a smile toward his father. "In all but this he's the best parent in the world, but he's fallen short in the matter of letting me know about you." "If ye'd stayed in ye're own country ye'd have known," retorted Sandy, from behind his pipe. "I have been away too long," Dand answered him, but the look was at Nancy. "Do you stay now?" she asked. "I had intended to go back at the end of the week, but I have changed my mind. With my father's leave, I'll spend the summer----" "It does not take you long to change your mind," Nancy returned with a smile. "No," he said, and here he leaned forward, took her hand and kissed it. "No! It took me just one second." I knew that she was not to be moved by any admiration which happened to come by. She paid a gracious attention to Danvers Carmichael, it is true, insisting, though he stoutly affirmed to the contrary, that she knew him to be hungry, that one could not _dine_ at The Star and Garter, ordering a small table with some cold fowl and a bottle of wine for him, all as though it were the thing nearest her heart. I, who knew her, understood that if it had been a tramp body from the lowlands who had come upon us she would have given the same thought to him and forgotten him by morning; but to a man, London bred and unaware as yet with whom his dealings lay, her solicitude for him might readily be interpreted as having something more purely personal in its nature. And this day was to be marked by another event than the home-coming of Danvers; an event which, if it had occurred six weeks later, might have changed the destiny of many lives, and given England another Premier than William Pitt. Before we parted for the night, Danvers took from his pocket a book, which he handed to Nancy with a bow. "It's not family jewels; nor yet a trifling necklace of pearls; nor can I honestly affirm it was intended as a gift, but if you will accept it from me as a birthday token it will make me very glad," and he handed the volume to her. "Poetry," she said with a pleased smile, "and in the Scot. Robert Burns! Is he a new man?"