But luckily it could never then, or at any other time, be said of Father Hamilton that he was thin-skinned. He only laughed the more at me. “Touche!” he cried. “I knew I could prick the old Andy somewhere. Still, Master Paul, thine uncle was not so young as thou, my cockerel. Had seen his world and knew that Scotland and its--what do you call them?--its manses, did not provide the universal ensample of true piety.” “I do not think, Father Hamilton,” said I, “that piety troubled him very much, or his shoes had not been so well known in Dunkerque.” Miss Walkinshaw laughed. “There you are, Father Hamilton!” said she. “You'll come little speed with a man from the Mearns moors unless you take him a little more seriously.” Father Hamilton pursed his lips and rubbed down his thighs, an image of the gross man that would have turned my father's stomach, who always liked his men lean, clean, and active. He was bantering me, this fat priest of Dixmunde, but all the time it was with a friendly eye. Thinks I, here's another legacy of goodwill from my extraordinary uncle! “Hast got thy pass yet, Master Dull?” said he. “Not so dull, Master Minister, but what I resent the wrong word even in a joke,” I replied, rising to go. Thurot's voice was on the stair now, and Clan-carty's. If they were not to find their _protégé_ in an undignified war of words with the priest of Dixmunde, it was time I was taking my feet from there, as the saying went. But Miss Walkinshaw would not hear of it. “No, no,” she protested, “we have some business before you go to your ridiculous French--weary be on the language that ever I heard _Je t'aime_ in it!--and how does the same march with you, Mr. Greig?” “I know enough of it to thank my good friends in,” said I, “but that must be for another occasion.” “Father Hamilton,” said she, “here's your secretary.” A curious flash came to those eyes pitted in rolls of flabby flesh, I thought of an eagle old and moulting, languid upon a mountain cliff in misty weather, catching the first glimpse of sun and turned thereby to ancient memories. He said nothing; there was at the moment no opportunity, for the visitors had entered, noisily polite and posturing as was their manner, somewhat touched by wine, I fancied, and for that reason scarcely welcomed by the mistress of the house.