"Finish what off?" asked my Aunt Kezia. "My last night's headache," said he. "That tea must have come from Heaven, then, instead of China," replied she. "Nay, Ambrose Catterall; it will take blood to finish off the consequence of your doings last night." "Why, Mrs Kezia, are you going to fight me?" asked he, laughing. "Young man, why don't you fight the Devil?" answered my Aunt Kezia, looking him full in the face. "He does not pay good wages, Ambrose." "Never saw the colour of his money yet," said Ambrose, who seemed extremely amused. "I wish you never may," quoth my aunt. "But I sadly fear you are going the way to do it." The more Ambrose laughed, the graver my Aunt Kezia seemed to grow. Before we had finished breakfast, Angus came languidly into the room. "What ails you, old comrade?" said Ambrose; and Flora's eyes looked up with the same question, but I think there were tears on the brown velvet. "Oh, my head aches conf--I mean--abominably," said Angus, flushing. "Take a hair of the dog that bit you," suggested Ambrose; "unless you think humble pie will agree with you better. I fancy Miss Drummond would rather help you to that last." I saw a flash in Mr Keith's eyes, which gave me the idea that he might not be a pleasant person to meet alone in a glen at midnight, if he had no scruples as to what he did. "You hold your tongue!" growled Angus. "By all means, if you prefer it," said Ambrose, lightly. One after another, the gentlemen strolled in,--all but two who stayed in bed till afternoon, and of these Mr Catterall was one. Among the last to appear was Mr Bagnall; but he looked quite fresh and gay when he came, like Ambrose. "We had to say grace for ourselves, Mr Bagnall," said Father. "Sit down, and let me help you to some of this turkey pie." "Thanks--if you please. What a lovely morning!" was Mr Bagnall's answer. "The young ladies look like fresh rosebuds with the dew on them." "We have not you gentlemen to thank for it, if we do," broke in Hatty. "Our slumbers were all the less profound for your kind assistance. Oh yes, you can look, Mr Bagnall! I mean _you_. I heard `Sally in our Alley' about one o'clock this morning." "No, was I singing that, now?" said Mr Bagnall, laughing. "I did not know I got quite so far. But at a hunt-supper, you know, everything is excusable." "Would you give me a reference to the passage which says so, Mr Bagnall?" came from behind the tea-pot. "I should like to note it in my Bible." Mr Bagnall laughed again, but rather uncomfortably. "My dear Mrs Kezia, you do not imagine the Bible has anything to do with a hunt-supper?" "It is to be hoped I don't, or I should be woefully disappointed," she answered. "But I always thought, Mr Bagnall, that the Word of God and the ministers of God should have something to do with one another."