"No, never!" cried Rashleigh, fiercely. "Then, traitor, die in your treason!" retorted Mac-Gregor, and plunged his sword into the prostrate antagonist. Rob Roy then drew out the attorney Clerk Jobson from the carriage, more dead than alive, and threw him under the wheel. "Mr. Osbaldistone," he said in Frank's ear, "you have nothing to fear. Your friends will soon be in safety. Farewell, and forget not the Mac-Gregor!" * * * * * "_And that_," I said, "_is all!_" But I was instantly overwhelmed by the rush of a living wave. "No, no," cried the children, throwing themselves upon me, "you must tell us what became of Rob Roy--of the Bailie--of Dougal!" These demands came from the boys. "And if Diana married Frank, or went to the convent?" interjected Sweetheart. "Well," I said, "I can soon answer all these questions. Sir Frederick died soon after, but before his end he relieved his daughter from her promise to enter a convent. She married Mr. Frank Osbaldistone instead." "And lived happy ever after?" added Maid Margaret, who was at the "fairy princess" stage of literature. "Except when she got cross with him," commented Sir Toady, an uncompromising realist, with pessimistic views on womenkind. "And Rob Roy held his ground among his native mountains until he died." "Tell us about the Bailie," said Hugh John; "I liked the Bailie--he's jolly!" I told him that he was far from being alone in that opinion. "The Bailie," I answered, "lived, as the Maid says, happily ever after, having very wisely married his servant Mattie. He carried on all the northern affairs of Osbaldistone and Tresham, now a greater commercial house than ever, and lived to be Lord Provost of the city of Glasgow." "Let Glasgow flourish!" cried Sir Toady, spontaneously. And the audience concluded the fourth tale and last from _Rob Roy_ with a very passable imitation of a Highland yell. THE END OF THE LAST TALE FROM "ROB ROY." RED CAP TALES TOLD FROM THE ANTIQUARY THE FIRST TALE FROM "THE ANTIQUARY" THE children lay prone on the floor of the library in various positions of juvenile comfort, watching the firewood in the big wide grate sparkle and crackle, or the broad snowflakes "spat" against the window-panes, where they stuck awhile as if gummed, and then began reluctantly to trickle down. As Sir Toady Lion said, "It was certainly a nice day on which to stop IN!"