Mrs. Dalyell went to her kitchen to give her orders to the cook as soon as her husband was out of sight. She was an excellent housekeeper, and enjoyed this part of her duties far too much to depute them to any other, although indeed in the tide of prosperity which Mr. Dalyell’s business had brought to Yalton she might have had a housekeeper had she pleased, and a much larger establishment. But she had thrifty instincts and that distrust of business which old-fashioned ladies used to have, with an inward conviction that it always collapsed at one time or another, and that the estate was the sheet-anchor: which had prevented her ever from launching out into expense. She dismissed the thoughts of Robert’s unusual embrace--for domestic endearments are sedulously kept in the background in Scotch houses of the old-fashioned type--and of any little peculiarity there might have been about him this morning more than other mornings--from her mind: which it required no effort to do, for she was not given to investigations below the surface, or reading between the lines, and a parting kiss (though absurd) was a parting kiss to Mrs. Dalyell, and it was nothing more. She took pains to order her husband a very good dinner, with due consideration of his special likings, which perhaps was as good a thing as she could have done. Then after luncheon there was Fred to send off in good time, so that he might not put out any of the Scrymgeours’ arrangements by arriving too late. He had a seven-miles drive, and never would have recollected to order the dog-cart in time if his mother had not taken that duty upon herself; and she likewise cast a glance at his other arrangements to make sure that his white ties were in good condition and his pumps as they ought to be--precautions quite unnecessary and rather distasteful to the young man in his new conviction, acquired at Oxford, that he knew better than any one what was essential to a perfect turn-out, either for horse or man. Susie, who was liberated from lessons after luncheon, spent her time in preparing messages for Lucy Scrymgeour which were intended to disturb and plant thorns in that young person’s mind. “You can tell her I never was so surprised in my life as when it came for you and not for me: for you never were such friends with them as me. But you’re only asked as a man. They must be badly off for men; though when one thinks of all the officers in the garrison--and Davie such friends with all of them! I don’t think you have got any amatory instincts, Fred--for you’ve no friends but Oxford men; and what good would they be to us if we had a ball? But you can tell Davie _from me_----” “Has Davie amatory instincts?” cried Fred. “The little beast--I’ll take him no messages from you.” “What on earth is the child talking of?” said Mrs. Dalyell. “Where did she hear such a word? Amatory!”