“Ye will sit down and bide quiet at any rate, and not disturb other folk. Mr. Adie, I am very glad that ye like your tea; it’s aye a good sign in a young man if he likes his tea. It shows he’s no thinking of ither beverages that are mair to the taste of so many unfortunate lads in this world. Ye’ll maybe be from London, which is a muckle place, I have always heard, and full o’ temptation. Eh, laddies, but ye should be awfu’ careful not to put yourselves in temptation. A very little thing will do it. Ye will maybe think,” said Mrs. Brown, making a desperate attempt to fathom the cause of Archie’s behaviour, and explain its enormity, “that to take an interest in racing horses or even in playin’ cards or dice or the like of that, is no just a cardinal crime. But oh, it leads to a’ the rest! Ye will maybe think nothing of losing a shilling or twa, or even a pound or twa upon a game. That’s bad enough, oh it’s bad enough! It may keep ye from doing a good turn to a neighbour in time of need, it may make ye powerless for good, just as it makes ye an instrument for evil; but that’s not all. It leads from bad to worse. It’s like the daughter o’ the horse-leech, it’s aye crying ‘Give, give.’ It’s like a whummel down a hill, the longer ye go the faster ye go. Oh, laddies! when I think how young ye are, and a’ the dangers in your way, and what soft hearts some of ye had, and how soon they harden when ye think of nothing but yoursel--” “Aunty,” said Archie, “we have got the train to catch, and the boat to catch, and we will have to go.” “I will not detain ye, Archie,” said Mrs. Brown, with the air of a duchess, “so long as ye give Mr. Adie the time to finish his tea. Good morning to you, sir, and I am very glad to have seen ye in my poor bit place. Ye will maybe give my love to my niece, Mey. And good-bye to ye, Archie. I hope that everything good will be aye in your path, and that ye may never want a kind friend nor one to succour ye in time of need.” To tell the feelings with which Archie heard the door of his childhood shut upon him with a decisive clash as if for ever, is more than I have words or power to do. He was shamed, abandoned, given up--and without any fault of his. Eddy was extremely entertaining all the way home. He had of course too much good taste and good breeding to refer in any way to the family quarrel of which he had been so unlucky as to be the witness. To ignore it altogether and do his best to divert his companion’s mind, and make him forget, was of course the thing which in the circumstances a man of good feeling would do. CHAPTER XXXI.