And so it appeared to be arranged. But still Queen Titania looked irresolute and uneasy. She did not at once set the whole house in an uproar; or send down for the men; or begin herself to harry the garden. She kept loitering about the door; pretending to look at the signs of the weather. At last Mary said— "Well, in any case, you will be more than an hour in having the things carried down; so I will do a little bit more to that sketch in the meantime." The moment she was gone, her hostess says in a hurried whisper to the Laird— "Will you come into the library, sir, for a moment?" He obediently followed her; and she shut the door. "Are we to start without Angus Sutherland?" she asked, without circumlocution. "I beg your pardon, ma’am," said the wily Laird. Then she was forced to explain, which she did in a somewhat nervous manner. "Mary has told me, sir, of your very, very great generosity to her. I hope you will let me thank you too." "There is not another word to be said about it," he said simply. "I found a small matter wrong in the world that I thought I could put right; and I did it; and now we start fresh and straight again. That is all." "But about Angus Sutherland," said she still more timidly. "You were quite right in your conjectures—at least, I imagine so—indeed, I am sure of it. And now, don’t you think we should send for him?" "The other day, ma’am," said he slowly, "I informed ye that when I considered my part done I would leave the matter in your hands entirely. I had to ask some questions of the lass, no doubt, to make sure of my ground; though I felt it was not a business fit for an old bachelor like me to intermeddle wi’. I am now of opinion that it would be better, as I say, to leave the matter in your hands entirely." The woman looked rather bewildered. "But what am I to do?" said she. "Mary will never allow me to send for him—and I have not his address in any case——" The Laird took a telegram from his breast-pocket. "There it is," said he, "until the end of this week, at all events." She looked at it hesitatingly; it was from the office of the magazine that Angus Sutherland edited; and was in reply to a question of the Laird’s. Then she lifted her eyes. "Do you think I might ask Mary herself?" "That is for a woman to decide," said he; and again she was thrown back on her own resources. Well, this midge of a woman has some courage too. She began to reflect on what the Laird had adventured, and done, for the sake of this girl; and was she not prepared to risk something also? After all, if these two had been fostering a vain delusion, it would be better to have it destroyed at once.