"Not in the middle of Oxford-street?" she said. "We will postpone the ceremony, if you prefer it; and now I will begin and tell you how it is still possible we may have that long ramble through Scotland together. You were anxious that before anything of the kind were attempted, your grandfather should go back to the United States to get materials for his book on the Scottish poets in America. Well, now, it seems a pity to make such a long voyage if it can be done without; and so I have taken the liberty of sending over to New York to see if there isn’t some handy young fellow there—some clerk or reporter—who would undertake to collect all the necessary materials, and send them over here for your grandfather to work up. Then we could go to Scotland all the same—that is, if you will let me accompany you." "Someone to collect the materials and send them over?" she repeated; and then she said: "But would that be fair, Mr. Harris—Mr. Vincent—would that be honest? Surely not! The book would not be my grandfather’s book at all; properly it would belong to the young man in New York." "I beg your pardon," said he, with decision. "He only supplies the bricks; he does not build the house. When a Chancellor of the Exchequer produces his budget, of course he claims it as his own; but he has got his facts from the heads of departments, and most likely his quotations have been hunted out for him by his private secretary. It would be your grandfather’s book, solely and wholly." "But the cost?" she said, after a second. "Supposing it were practicable, the expense—" "Oh, never mind about that," said he, lightly. "It will be next to nothing—you needn’t mind about that. Our deputy in New York will find very little difficulty in getting the memoranda that he wants. There is no sort of unnecessary modesty about minor poets; they will be glad enough to give him specimens of their work, as soon as it is known what he aims at. And in Scotland," he continued (grown suddenly bold), "don’t you see how it would work? Your grandfather must have an occasional morning to give to his MSS; then you and I could leave him in absolute peace and quiet; and we might go away for a stroll up to Arthur’s Seat, or round the ramparts of the Castle, and return to him by lunch-time. Wouldn’t that be an excellent arrangement?" "Yes, that would be very nice indeed," said she, with a pleased expression: she seemed to look forward to this close and constant companionship as the most natural thing in the world. And in fact so sanguine was the young man about the success of his new scheme that, when the three of them were seated at a small table in Mentavisti’s Restaurant, he ventured to hint to old George Bethune his fond hope that he might be allowed to join in that prolonged excursion through Scotland; and the old man at once acquiesced.