Mr. Wedderburn went into Edinburgh by the early train, the train which conveyed all the gentlemen who were business men. But Mr. Dalyell, who was not exactly a man in business, went in later. He had a great deal to do with that busy world, but he was not actually in harness with an office which claimed his daily attention. He was a director of a railway company, and he had something to do with a great insurance office, and there were other more speculative concerns in which he was believed to have an interest: and there were few days in the week in which he did not go “in,” as everybody said, to Edinburgh; but still it was not a matter of necessity. He was up earlier than his wont that morning--for Yalton was not an early house in general--and “pottered about,” as his wife said fretfully, from his dressing-room to the library and from the library back to his dressing-room, disturbing her morning’s rest. He seemed to have a quantity of little things to do. Even after the breakfast bell had rung he ran twice into the library for something which he said he had forgotten. “You seem to have as many things to remember as if you were the Prime Minister,” said Mrs. Dalyell, who had already poured out his coffee, and who was more annoyed when he left his breakfast to get cold than by any other of his peccadilloes. “_Robert!_” she cried from the door in a tone of exasperation, “there will be nothing fit to eat!” “I am coming, I am coming!” he cried. The curious thing was that he did not mind if his bacon was cold: but his wife minded for him and fumed and fretted. “What is the use of trying to get anything comfortable for your father?” she would say complainingly, “Well, mother, I like my kidneys hot,” said Fred; “so they’re not thrown away at least.” Mrs. Dalyell looked at her son as if his tastes were a matter of much indifference, but softened when she met the lad’s good-humoured blue eyes. He was not remarkable in appearance, but like dozens of other Scotch lads all about--light-brown hair, curling so strongly that it was difficult sometimes to comb it out; nice eyes, with a smile in them; tolerable features, the nose turned up a little; not a giant by any means, but well developed, well set up--a natural, pleasant boy of twenty, not without his failings, and perhaps a little careless, a little superficial, having had no occasion as yet to fathom any of the depths of life. He nodded at her over the dish of kidneys with a smile which was contagious. Mrs. Dalyell was by no means a light-hearted person. She was easily put out. She did not like anybody to have a different way of thinking from her own on the points that interested her. To let your tea stand till it was cold was an offence to Mrs. Dalyell. As for more serious matters she did not much interfere with them. That was the gentlemen’s part of the business. To have breakfast in good condition and attend to the comfort of the house was