?" I asked
breathlessly.

"Sometimes I think so. At other times I think, _Qui bono?_ I say to
myself that I shall never have a home, or an incentive for settling
down. But come along and look at Sir Walter's treasures before any one
else appears."

"Where's Mrs. West?" I asked involuntarily.

"She's annexed your bodyguard for the moment--do you mind?--appealed to
their innate love of horrors by showing them the picture of Queen Mary's
head, painted an hour after her death by a brother of Margaret Cawood,
her attendant. Suddenly I felt that, if Basil could spare you to me for
ten minutes, I should like to be the one to show you a few things--the
things I loved best when I came from Edinburgh to Abbotsford with a bit
of the first money I ever earned by my brush."

I turned on him, opening my eyes wide. "Basil spare me!" I echoed
scornfully. "I'm not his princess, even if you don't want me for yours."

"I do want you. But----"

"Oh, here he comes!" I whispered, shrill as a cricket. "Take me to see
_your_ things, quickly."

So we ran away from Basil, and I had one of the happiest hours I have
ever lived through; although the sight of Sir Walter's neat clothes in
the glass case--the thick-soled boots, the broad-brimmed hat that
covered his thoughts, the coat that covered his heart--brought tears to
my eyes.

Next best, I liked the bit of Queen Mary's dress, the pocket-book worked
by Flora MacDonald, Prince Charlie's "Quaich"--the cup with the glass
bottom to guard the drinker against surprises--the ivory miniatures Sir
Walter and his French bride exchanged, and the Rob Roy relics. Perhaps
it is odd, but they were the very things Sir S. had remembered most
affectionately. Last of all he showed me a toadstone amulet set in
silver, a charm to prevent and ward off the spells of fairies. "If I
could have had a thing like this to carry about with me in my
motor-car," he said, "I should perhaps have been safe. But it's too late
now."

He smiled at me with that whimsical yet kind smile which is the only
sort he ever gives me since Mrs. West and Basil and the boys came.
Before their day, there was a different look in his eyes. I can't tell
what that difference was, but I liked the old look a thousand times
better than the new, which makes me feel I may as well go into a
convent. Not that I intend to do so!

Just then Basil came to say that his sister and the Vannecks were going,
as Aline was tired; and would Sir S. tell