"—and I have considered it my duty to ask you, as the future proprietor of Denny-mains in all human probability, whether ye would rather have these two tenements sold, with as much of the adjoining land as would make up that sum, or whether ye would have the sum made a charge on the estate generally, and take your chance of that land rising in value? What say ye?" The Laird had been prepared for all this; but the Youth was not. He looked rather frightened. "I should be sorry to hear, sir," he stammered, "that—that—you were pressed for money——" "Pressed for money!" said the Laird severely; "I am not pressed for money. There is not a square yard of Denny-mains with a farthing of mortgage on it. Come, let’s hear what ye have to say." "Then," said the young man, collecting his wits, "my opinion is, that a man should do what he likes with his own." "That’s well said," returned the Laird, much mollified. "And I’m no sure but that if we were to roup[#] that land, that quarrelsome body Johnny Guthrie might not be trying to buy it; and I would not have him for a neighbour on any consideration. Well, I will write to Todd and Buchanan about it at once." [#] To roup, to sell by public auction. The Laird rose and began to bundle his papers together. The Youth laid hold of the fishing-rods, and was about to carry them off somewhere, when he was suddenly called back. "Dear me!" said the Laird, "my memory’s going. There was another thing I was about to put before ye, lad. Our good friends here have been very kind in asking ye to remain so long. I’m thinking ye might offer to give up your state-room before they start on this long trip. Is there any business or occupation ye would like to be after in the south?" The flash of light that leapt to the young man’s face! "Why, uncle!" he exclaimed eagerly, diving his hand into his pocket, "I have twice been asked by old Barnes to go to his place—the best partridge shooting in Bedfordshire——" But the Youth recollected himself. "I mean," said he seriously, "Barnes, the swell solicitor, don’t you know—Hughes, Barnes, and Barnes. It would be an uncommonly good thing for me to stand well with them. They are just the making of a young fellow at the bar when they take him up. Old Barnes’s son was at Cambridge with me; but he doesn’t do anything—an idle fellow—cares for nothing but shooting and billiards. I really ought to cultivate old Barnes." The Laird eyed him askance.