“Very well,” said Archie, a little surprised; but he made no haste to obey his father’s call. There were a few more dances after the great people were gone, and Miss Eliza had made three or four ineffectual starts before she could collect her party together, who were the last to go. “Indeed, Mr. Archie,” she said, “you will just be worn off your feet hunting up these wild lassies for me. For the moment you’ve found one, there’s a new waltz started, and the other three are on the floor. And when they’ve done, Helen’s off again just to have a last turn, and there’s nothing left for it that I can see but for you and me to perform a _pas seul_ to frighten them all away--Here they are at last, the whole four, which is all that can be squeezed into Alick Chalmers’s coach, whatever we do. And the lads must just walk, it will do them good after the three or four suppers they’ve had. And it has been a beautiful ball. I see your mammaw and papaw have stolen away, which I’m not surprised at, considering how late it is. You will say good-night to them for me, and many thanks for a delightful evening. And ye must all come up to your tea to-morrow and talk it over. Good-night--and good-night.” Eddy was at the carriage door also, superintending with much laughter the packing in of the five ladies in their ball-dresses into Alick’s fly. All the dignified and ceremonious leave-takings were over--this was pure light-hearted fun and frolic. While Miss Eliza’s four young ladies were still waving their handkerchiefs from the windows of the coach as it disappeared into the darkness, and “the boys,” an equal number of them, four young men, were buttoning their coats and lighting their cigars, the butler appeared again. Once more he touched Archie on the shoulder, this time with more solemnity than ever. “Mr. Archibald,” he said, “the Master is waiting for you in the library. You’re to go to him without another moment’s delay.” “What have you been doing, Rowland--are you going to get a wigging?” said Eddy. “Thank heaven,” he added with a yawn, “my governor’s several hundred miles away.” Archie did not make any reply: but he was not at that moment in any fear of a wigging. Lady Jean’s gracious words, and the fun of Miss Eliza’s good-humoured party, had brought warmth and confidence to his heart. There could be nothing to be laid to his charge to-night. He knew that he had done his duties well, better than ever before. He had been careful of everybody’s comfort, emancipating himself by that thought from his native shyness and fear of putting himself forward. Perhaps his father meant to say something kind to him, to express some satisfaction. It was with this feeling of confidence and ease, a feeling so unusual to him, and even with a little pleasureable sense of expectation, that Archie turned the handle of the library door. CHAPTER XXXIV.