“The don?” said Rosamond; “has he lent you money? I thought these men had never any money to lend.” “Oh, that depends!” said Eddy. He burst into a great laugh, but immediately restrained himself. “He could get me into a pretty scrape if he liked, so I must keep friends with him. I mean to get Mother Rowland to ask him to the ball.” “How dare you call her Mother Rowland?” said the girl, stamping her foot. “Oh, dare! I dare do--whatever suits me,” said the young man. “Look here,” he added, “I don’t want you to dance with him all the same.” Rosamond turned upon her brother and gave him a look of scorn. It was not often that she condescended to look at any one to whom she was talking; but her glance was very direct and keen when she took the trouble. And she did not make any reply. They were by this time at the entrance to the gamekeeper’s cottage, and she swept in at the always open door. “May we come in?” she condescended to say, but did not pause for an answer. Old Rankin was sitting up in bed, taking his forenoon refreshment: which he himself described as “supping a wheen broth.” “Oh you’re welcome, my young leddy. Ye will have come about the dowg; but I think it is mair civil, in an ordinary way, if you would just chap at the door.” “That’s what I say,” said Eddy; “but she takes her own way. I hope you’re better, Rankin, and no rheumatism. It’s not so cold, for there’s no wind this morning; but the hoar frost is still lying under the trees.” “Ay,” said Rankin, “there will be rain the morn. These white frosts aye brings rain, no to say that it’s ever sweered to come. I’m muckle obliged to you for asking for me. You’re the only one of the young folk at the House that ever minds I am a man. And a very ill man. They think I’m some kind of a creature for producin’ dowgs.” “I am very sorry for you,” said Rosamond; “my father is like you, he cannot move; but he does not like people to ask him how he is.” “Ay, ay, ye hae a father like me? Poor gentleman, I’m sure he has my compassion,” said Rankin, “especially if he has no favourite purshoot like mine that makes the time pass.” “Well, let us see your favourite purshoot,” said Eddy; “let us see them. They are great fun, the little beasts.” “I am no reduced to that stage of intelligence,” said the gamekeeper, “to call the breeding o’ dowgs a purshoot. I just leave that to nature. What I really am, and I’m proud o’t, is an antiquary. There’s no many things ye can bring to me in the way of antiquities that would puzzle me. I’ve seen when half o’ this,” he laid his hand on a paper on the bed, “was my writing--whiles questions and whiles answers. It’s maybe no a profitable kind of study. I make nothing by it in the way of money; but it’s real entertaining. I’m just as pleased when a number comes in with me, answering a’ the scholars and putting them right, or them answering me and putting me right, as if it was so much siller in my pooch.”