So far, then, had the united opinions of the family determined regarding their guest. But what should have brought him the way of West Mains, such an out-of-the-way place, seeing that he had neither gun, dog, nor fishing-rod, and could not therefore have been in pursuit of sport? It was odd, unaccountable. Where could he be from? Where could he be going to? These were questions more easily put than answered; and by all were they put, but by none were they replied to. At length, Mr Adair took speech in hand himself on the subject. "I kenna, nor, indeed, neither do I muckle care, wha the lad is; but he seems to me to be a ceevil, discreet, young man; and I rather like him a'thegither, although he's a dooms bad haun at baith cap and trencher. A', however, that we hae to do wi' him, is to treat him ceevily while he's under our roof. He's gotten a guid bed to lie in, and in the mornin we'll gie him a guid breakfast to tak the road wi', and there'll be an end o't. It's no likely we'll ever hear or see mair o' him." Having said this, Robert broke up the conclave; gave the long-drawn sonorous yawn that his family knew to be the signal of preparation for bed. In the next moment, Adair's left hand was busily employed in undoing the knee buttons of his small clothes. Another powerful yawn, and he proceeded to perform the same operation on his right leg. In two minutes after, he was snugly buried beneath the blankets; his "honest, sonsy, bawsint face," and red Kilmarnock night-cap, being all that was left visible of him; and, in five minutes more, a magnificent snore intimated to all whom it might concern, that worthy Robin Adair was fairly in the land of Nod, and oblivious of all earthly concerns. On the following morning, Mr Adair and his guest met at breakfast, when that liking for each other which had begun to manifest itself on the preceding night--although neither, perhaps, could say precisely whence it arose--gradually waxed into a somewhat stronger feeling. Adair was pleased with the gentle and unaffected manners of his guest, while the latter was equally pleased with the sincerity of character and generosity of heart of his entertainer. It appeared, however, as if their acquaintance was to be but of short duration, and as if they were now soon to part, in all probability for ever. Circumstances seemed to point to this result; yet it was by no means the one that followed--an odd incident at once threw out all such calculation. When breakfast was concluded, and the party who had sat around the table--Adair, his family, and the stranger--had risen to their feet, the latter, smiling through his natural gravity, asked his host if he would be so good as give him a private interview with him. To this Mr Adair, although not a little surprised at the request, consented, and led the way into a small back-parlour that opened from the room in which they had breakfasted.