It was Eddy who told the story of their day in Glasgow, and owned to having yawned in the Cathedral. Archie was silent, as was his wont. He kept a little apart, and said nothing. Sometimes he cast a glance of strange meaning at the lively conversationalist, who made their expedition sound so amusing. What was it that look meant? It was Archie’s usual way--his inability to understand the happier natures. They all noted that occasional glance, and all gave the same interpretation to it: for what, indeed, could it mean else? There was nothing else to arouse his surprise, the wondering, half-question in his eyes. Archie’s wonder, indeed, was beyond words. To think that, with such a light heart, the transaction which had already cost himself so much should be taken by the other, without a thought of the penalty involved, or the shame it had already brought. Perhaps Eddy did not realise that shame, or what it was to the young man to be suspected of unkindness, of selfishness, of wasting upon miserable pursuits of his own the money that might have saved the life of another. A year ago nothing could have made Archie himself realise such a position, for he had never possessed money, and could not in the nature of things have been asked for it, and this probably was why Saumarez was so obtuse. There was another thing, however, which Archie could not understand, but which he was deeply grateful for: and that was that Eddy made not the slightest reference in his lively narrative of the day’s proceedings, to the visit to Mrs. Brown. Why? But Archie could not tell--it only vaguely increased the trouble in his mind, while more or less soothing it externally: and he did not know whether it was not his duty to mention it himself. They might think him ashamed of Aunt Jane if he said nothing, and yet the recollection of that visit was so painful that he preferred not to speak of it, and was grateful to his companion for leaving it out of his easy and amusing tale. After dinner Eddy was as much the hero of the moment as he had been before. He had various experiments to make as to the lights, as to the flowers, and all the details of the ball-room, for the due regulation of which the group of admiring spectators followed him up and down, hanging upon his words. Archie followed at the end of the train, still wondering, saying to himself, that no doubt the money, which apparently was to cost himself so dear, had so relieved Eddy’s mind that he could not restrain himself, that he felt a new man: that was no doubt the cause of his vivacity, the lightness of his heart. Archie remembered how he had himself felt when relieved of the burden of the debt to Rankin for the little dogs, and other small matters which had been on his mind before he had received his father’s first gift of twenty pounds. That gift had come to him amid painful circumstances, but when the first effect produced by them had died away, how glad he