’A man that is not fool and puppy does not see such things,’ said Herries, virtuously. But he was mollified. Alison, meanwhile, was by no means enjoying her walk home. Her heart was hot and sore within her. It was hard to have missed that pleasant escort, to have been obliged to offend so kind a friend. Would he forgive her? These melancholy thoughts were interrupted by Willy, who, generally an active child, was lagging in a tiresome way. ’Ally,’ he said at last, with the dire directness of childhood, ’I am feeling _that_ sick....’ ’You have had too much cake,’ said Alison, sternly. ’’Twasn’t my fault, then,’ cried Willy, resentfully, ’’twas that old man that made me.’ And ruefully he put a hand just where the ’Sunday suit’ fastened with most unpleasant tightness over Mr. Creighton’s too liberal hospitality. But no terrible results ensued, and Alison had soon forgotten Willy’s woes in wonder at the strangeness of the escort which Herries had substituted for his own. Mysie was certainly an odd figure. What a queer young woman for a servant, Alison thought, and with what very strange manners! Mysie, in a draggled cotton gown, and screen by no means modestly covering her charms, was no sooner out of sight of her master’s windows, than she began to stalk along as though the town belonged to her, swinging her arms, occasionally casting a sly, sideward glance at her companions, but more often leering at a passer-by. It was the New Year time, and the streets were full of half-drunken loafers of both sexes. Mysie soon attracted all the attention that she wanted; shouts of laughter began to follow her, and soon a sorry jest or two. Her bold manner grew bolder, her step more free; yet, in the abandonment of her air, there would have been apparent, to an experienced eye, rather recklessness and despair than any genuine flaunting. There was, too, a peculiarity in her gait which Alison was too young to note, or to understand, had she noted it. Only the odd behaviour of the woman struck her. It was very disagreeable. She tightened her clasp of Willy’s hand, and quickened her pace. But at the end of Princess Street she had to stop. There was that odious letter to be delivered, and delivered secretly, as Alison well understood. ’Mysie,’ she said, with what courage she could summon, ’I wish to turn up here on a message. Wait here, if you please, with the young gentleman, until I return.’ ’Na, I’ll no wait,’ retorted Mysie, with a cunning look. ’I’m for comin’ wi’ ye.’ Alison knew not what to do; resistance, she felt, would only make a scene. ’I am only going to leave a letter in the square,’ she said quietly; ’you can come if you choose.’ ’Whatna square?’ enquired Mysie. Alison did not answer, but hurried on. When St. James’s Square opened up before them, she felt a hand upon her arm.