Miss Polly mischievously; "my
cousin Joan is so scarce of her countenance, that I want to know how she
can behave in company."

"Very well, I assure you," avouched Mrs. Maxwell zealously; then she
began to remember, and start, and flounder--"only she is so modest.
Joanna, my dear, you cannot be so stupid as to hesitate from a certain
reason?"

"Oh, no. You can send back Sandy, Mrs. Maxwell, since you are so good.
Mamma knows what we will require; or I will write a little note."

Joanna could have borne any encounter rather than a discussion of the
obstacle with Mrs. Maxwell--a discussion which might be gone over again
any day to anybody.

But Joanna was terribly vexed and provoked that she had exposed herself
to this infliction, though she was fain to comfort herself with the
argument that it would make no difference to papa's feelings; and she
trusted that she and Conny would slip into the drawing-room when the
guests were occupied, and subside into corners, and escape attention.

Joanna was established in her recess, nearly confident that she was not
conspicuous, and considerably interested in watching Harry Jardine.

Mrs. Jardine's intentions had been in a great measure fulfilled. The
young Laird of Whitethorn had grown up at his English school and German
university without the cloud which rested on his father's end descending
on his spirit. He was as strong and pleasant and blithe as his father,
with the self-possession which a life amongst strangers, and the
available wallet of a traveller's information, could graft upon his
gentle birth and early manhood. At the same time, there was no deception
about Harry Jardine. While he was gay and good-humoured, he had an air
of vigour and action, and even a dash of temper lurking about his black
curls and bright eyes, which prepared one for hearing that he had not
only hobnobbed with the Goettingen students, but had also won their
prizes, and thrashed them when they aspired to English sports; and had
travelled four nights without sleep, under stress of weather, to reach
Whitethorn on the day he had fixed to his mother. He had brought a
steady character along with him, too; they said that he had been a good
son, and had remembered that his mother was a widow, and had endured
enough grief to last her all her days. Mrs. Jardine, who was not a
flatterer, declared that Harry had not cost her a care which she needed
to grudge. There is enough temptation, and to spare, for