The transaction at the bank was managed quite satisfactorily. Archie would not even permit Eddy to accompany him inside, but left him gazing vacantly into the shop-windows while he accomplished his business. Very little passed between them when it was completed. Archie thrust the little packet of notes into Eddy’s hand. “They’re small one’s,” he said, “I thought that was best.” And Eddy grasped Archie’s hand and gave him a look in which gratitude was blended with what Archie imagined to be joy--in his salvation so to speak: but which was in reality a delightful consciousness of the possession of money, and of the great joke involved in his benefactor’s conviction that he was doing a great thing. Eddy did not think so much of the hundred and fifty pounds. He concluded that it was the merest trifle to the millionaire’s son, who, of course, had only got to ask his father for more if he wanted it. Eddy put it into his pocket carelessly, though with much pleasure. It did not mean the payment of debt, which to him was but a mediocre satisfaction; it meant various things much more agreeable--the spending of money, which is an inexhaustible pleasure so long as the wherewithal lasts. After this they went to see various of the sights of Glasgow, in which Eddy, it must be allowed, was not very much interested--the Cathedral, for one, which Archie looked upon as the most glorious building in the world, but which young Saumarez cared about as little for as he would have cared for any other cathedral under the sun. Eddy yawned as he walked about the aisles and investigated the crypt. He cared neither for the architecture nor the antiquity, nor for the painted glass, nor even for Rob Roy, which latter interest poor Archie considered infallible. Nor were the other sights more exciting to him. He suggested luncheon as far more interesting either than the Necropolis, the College, or the Broomielaw: and after the luncheon, which he did not consider highly satisfactory, asked with much languor and fatigue of expression, whether Rowland had not some one he wanted to call on instead of bothering about any more Glasgow sights? Archie coloured high at this question, not on Eddy’s account, but with a curious feeling of shame, which was also a feeling of guilt. To be in Glasgow without going to see his aunt would be, he was aware, an unpardonable and heartless thing. It would wound her deeply if she knew, and even if she never knew, it would be no less a mean and abominable thing to do. Nevertheless the presence of Eddy had been enough to make him put this from his mind as an impossibility. “I was not thinking of calling anywhere,” he said. “But you must have people that you want to see. Let’s go and see somebody,” Eddy said. “I like people. I’m not a fellow for seeing sights.” “I might take you to see the football at the Westpark--if you are fond of football.”