"But they always do steal them in books," said Hugh John; "well, I would just like to see them cart me off! And if they took Sir Toady Lion, they would soon send him back. He eats so much!" This was Hugh John's idea of a joke, and somewhat hastily I interrupted fraternal strife by returning to the general subject. "Adam Smith, a very learned man, who afterwards wrote _The Wealth of Nations_, was stolen by gipsies when a child," I said. "_I_ wish they had just kept him," said Hugh John, unexpectedly; "then we wouldn't have had to paraphrase the beastly thing at school. It is as full of jaw-breakers as a perch is full of bones." "Was little Harry really stolen by gipsies, or was he killed over the cliff?" queried Maid Margaret. "Of course he was stolen, silly," broke in Sir Toady Lion, sagely; "look how much more of the book there has got to be all about him. Think there would be all that, if he got killed right at the beginning, eh?" "Do any people smuggle nowadays?" demanded Hugh John. "Of course they do--in Spain," interjected Sir Toady Lion, "father got put in prison there once." "That was all owing to a mistake," I explained hastily (for really this had nothing to do with Scott); "it was only because your parent happened to be wearing the same kind of hat as a certain well-known smuggler, a very desperate character." "HUM-M!" said Sir Toady Lion, suddenly developing a cold in the nose. "Well, anyway, they do smuggle--though not much in this country now," said Sweetheart, "and I'm glad father knew a man who smuggled in Spain. It makes this book so much more real." "Getting put in prison instead of him made it almost _too_ real," said Sir Toady. He is a most disconcerting and ironical boy. One often wonders where he gets it from. So to shut off further questioning, I proceeded immediately with the telling of the second tale from _Guy Mannering_. THE SECOND TALE FROM "GUY MANNERING" I. HAPPY DOMINIE SAMPSON IT was seventeen long years after the murder of Frank Kennedy and the disappearance of little Harry Bertram when Guy Mannering, now a soldier famous for his wars in the East, penetrated a second time into Galloway. His object was to visit the family of Ellangowan, and secretly, also, to find out for himself in what way his random prophesies had worked out. But he arrived at an unfortunate time. He found that, chiefly by the plotting and deceit of a rascally lawyer, one Gilbert Glossin, the Bertrams were on the point of being sold out of Ellangowan. All their money had been lost, and the sale of the estate was being forced on by the rascally lawyer Glossin for his own ends.