“Do you, Mr. Saumarez?” said the young lady with a look of faith, such as young ladies often wear--ready to receive what he said as truth, or to laugh at it as transparent humbug, it did not matter which. And Eddy danced all night undisturbed and imperturbable. The bank clerk was nothing to him. He sat out two square dances with Miss Monteith, the heiress. But every other on the programme Eddy danced, even the Scotch reel, of which he said, “I shall only make you all laugh, of course, but never mind.” Everybody did laugh, no doubt, at his performance, but they liked him all the better for trying it. It was a part of the programme into which Archie entered with spirit, for once sure of his ground. This was at a tolerably advanced period, when the guests who lived at the greatest distance were already ordering their carriages, and Archie, in the absence of his father, after the reel was over, had to preside over all the arrangements for the conclusion of the most successful entertainment that had ever been known in Rosmore, and to give Lady Jean his arm to the door. “It has been a pleasant party,” said Lady Jean. “And you must come over and see us, and have a day or two with my brother on the moors. Clydesdale, I am telling young Mr. Rowland he must come over and see what he can do among the grouse, some fine day very soon.” “You must do that,” said the Earl himself. “You must do that. I will write and fix a day.” What greater honour could have been done to the son of the railway man? He felt the glory of it, though the thought of such a visit was enough to take all the courage out of Archie. He stood a little dazed by the honour that had been done him, watching the carriage as it drove away, and pleased to feel the cold fresh air upon his forehead, when the butler came up to him with a serious face. “Mr. Archibald,” he said, “the Master would like to see you in the library as soon as the principal people are gone.”