Therefore, one Schetki, a teacher of music, was summoned to instruct Miss Graham for two hours in the week in the management of the voice and harp. So that the little room in the Potterrow echoed to sweet sounds, the twanging of long-silent strings, the deep, sweet notes of Alison’s voice; while Nancy, bent with flushed cheeks over her little desk, scribbled her interminable letters—letters, alas! losing more and more of their discreet Platonic tone. The while, two little round-eyed boys would stop their play and listen to the singing; and busy Jean would pause at the door to catch the floating tune. So passed away two or three busy and happy weeks. I daresay it would be about the Christmas time, when such things are common, that a batch of bills was delivered at the door of a certain rising young lawyer in the New Town. Among them were two—one from a certain mantle-maker of first celebrity, and one from a much respected teacher of the musical arts. They contained, severally, these interesting items:— _To a Pelisse, in Crimson Paduasoy, lined_ _silk, bordered fur, . . . . . . . 5 guineas._ _To a Robe, Indian Muslin, embroidered,_ _3 guineas and 15 shillings._ And further:— _To Lessons in the Harp and Voice given at_ _Mistress Maclehose’s in the Poterrow, . 2 guineas._ But as to how these interesting and expensive disclosures were received by their victim, it would not be discreet in me, at this point in my story, to tell. *CHAPTER XVIII.* It would be in the course of these December weeks that Creighton, Herries’s associate in business, formed a habit of coming, oftener than usual, to his partner’s room, for a chat before leaving the office. Herries had no objection, but he rather wondered what brought the man. There was to be noticed, certainly, at this time, an increasing feebleness in Creighton’s health. He coughed frequently, and his breathing seemed to trouble him. Herries thought that perhaps he enjoyed the additional comforts of his superior’s room; he would walk about in it rubbing his hands, talking, rather aimlessly, about trifles. Once he rather astonished Herries by an enquiry after the health of Mrs. Maclehose—that lady being no favourite of his. ’Your relative and her children are well, I trust?’ he said, in his formal way. ’Ahem’—with a laboriously unconscious air; ’I daresay you will be seeing, now and then, the young gentlewoman who at present seems to form one of Mrs. Maclehose’s circle?’ ’Miss Graham? I’ll be sworn I do!’ said Herries, laughing. ’He would have bad eyesight who failed to see anything quite so big and strapping, up in my cousin’s garret there, for all the world like a gowk in a hedge-sparrow’s nest.’