such question would
not be answered.

Meanwhile, no great change seemed to have been produced in Geordie
Willison's manner of living, in consequence of his having become
comparatively rich. He lounged about the streets, joking with his
acquaintances--went his messages--sometimes appeared with a crowd of
boys after him--dressed in the same style--and, altogether, was just the
same kind of person he used to be.

Time passed, and precisely on the same day next year he went to Lady
Maitland's. In the passage, he was met by the housekeeper, Louise
Grecourt, who asked him what he wanted. He looked at her intently, and
recognised in this person's voice the same tones which had arrested his
ears so forcibly on the night of the attempted murder of the child. To
make himself more certain of this, Geordie led her into conversation.

"I want my Leddy Maitland," answered Geordie--"are ye her leddyship?"

"No," answered the housekeeper, with a kick of her head, which Geordie
took as a sign that his bait had been swallowed; "I am not Lady
Maitland--I am in de charge of her ladyship's house. Vat you vant vit
her ladyship? Can Louise Grecourt not satisfy a fellow like you?"

"No exactly at present," answered Geordie; "tell her leddyship that
Geordie Willison wants to speak to her."

Louise started when he mentioned his name, certifying Geordie that she
was in the secret of his knowledge. Her manner changed. She became all
condescension; and, leading him up stairs, opened a door, and showed him
into a room where Lady Maitland was sitting.

"I houp yer leddyship," began Geordie, with a low bow, "has been quite
weel sin' I had the honour o' yer acquaintanceship, whilk is now a year,
come twa o'clock o' this day. Ye micht maybe be thinking we were gaun to
fa' out o' acquaintanceship; but I'm no ane o' yer conceited creatures
wha despise auld freends, and rin after new anes, merely because they
may think them brawer--sae ye may keep yer mind easy on that score; and
I wad farther tak the liberty to assure yer leddyship that, if ye hae
ony siller by ye at present, I winna hesitate to gie ye a proof o' the
continuance o' my freendship, by offerin' to tak frae ye as meikle as I
may need."

"How much is that?" asked Lady Maitland.

"Twunty pund, my leddy, twunty pund," answered Geordie.

The money was handed to him by the lady, without saying a word; and,
having again made a low bow, he departed.

Next year, Geordie Willison went an