“That is just it,” said Mr. Dalyell. And after he had made this unquestioned observation, he added, “I shall perhaps run down to Portobello and get a swim. Nothing puts a man right like the sea. I’ll just take a plunge and be back by the four o’clock train.” “I hope you’ll have somebody with you; and don’t you be too venturesome with your plunging and your swimming.” “Too venturesome on Portobello sands! I’ll get Pat Wedderburn to come and look after me,” said Mr. Dalyell with a laugh. He laughed with his lips, but his eyes were quite grave--which was all the more remarkable since he had laughing eyes, with humorous puckers all about them, exceedingly ready to light up at such a joke as that of being taken care of by Pat Wedderburn. He had still half-a-dozen things which kept him running out and in before he was ready to start, which his way, but always a source of exasperation to his orderly wife. Finally, when there was hardly time to catch the train, he dashed upstairs three steps at a time, explaining that he had forgotten something. Mrs. Dalyell stood wringing her hands at the open door. “I wish you had ordered the dog-cart, Fred. He’ll never catch the train. You should remember your father’s ways, and that this is always what happens: and then he’ll just fly and get out of breath and over-heated--the very worst things for him. Dear, dear me! I might have had more sense. I might have ordered the dog-cart myself, there’s only ten minutes----” “If he does lose the train I suppose it won’t matter so much,” said easy-minded Fred. “Not if he would think so,” replied the mother, “nothing at all--but when he sets his mind on a thing, possible or impossible, he will carry it out. ROBERT!” she cried, in capitals, going to the bottom of the stairs.