“Is it?” said Rowland, brightening more and more. He began to think that perhaps he had been too severe upon the young people, that his anxiety had made him see blemishes which perhaps did not exist. It was quite possible that well-made clothes, and a little money in his pocket, would make entirely a different figure of Archie; and little May--well perhaps little May wanted still less. She was as sharp as a needle. She would pick up everything without letting it be seen that she did not know it to begin with. The thought flashed through his mind that in a week she would have made herself an exact copy of Evelyn, and what could a girl do better than that? Marion was not like her own mother at all; she had not those eyes which gave Archie, though he did not know it, so much power. But she was very clever: she could make herself whatever she wanted to be. The Rowlands had a great deal before them in the few days which they were to spend in London, before going, as Mr. Rowland proudly said, home. There were a great many things still to buy, which could be got only in town, though the Glasgow people had been indignantly sure that nothing was to be had in London (to call London _town_, was an arrogance which was not to be endured) which could not be much better procured in Glasgow. Rowland, however, was precisely the man to be of a contrary opinion, and he had a list as long as his arm of things that were still wanted. Plate, for one inconsiderable item, and carriages on which Evelyn’s judgment was necessary, and for which orders had to be given at once. He approved of her purchases, but thought them far too few and unimportant. “I believe you are afraid of spending money,” he said, with a long rich laugh. This rich laugh of contempt at all small economies and insignificant expenditure is offensive in many people, but it was not offensive in James Rowland--perhaps, indeed, to the wives of the millionaires, who are thus allowed _carte blanche_, and egged on in the way of pleasant extravagance, it is never offensive. Evelyn entered into the joke of being niggardly, of spending too little. “As if there was not enough to come and go upon,” he said, with perfect satisfaction. When any one was by, especially any one who was not rich, who could not afford these liberalities, she might blush a little and restrain with a look, or a touch upon his arm, the large utterances of her good man; but when they were alone, she did not find it offensive. She went with him from one shop to another, quite pleased with herself and him. He was really a satisfactory person to go shopping with. He found nothing too costly so long as it was good, and threw over cheap things with a fine contempt that was refreshing to behold, especially to one who for a long time had been obliged to take cheapness much into consideration. One day he took her into Christie’s, and bade her look if there was anything good enough for her boudoir at home, and stood by smiling with pride in