olerably sharp answer. But he only said to his
old friend Ogilvie,--

"No, no, Ogilvie; we are not very rich folks; but we have not come to
that yet. 'I'd sell my kilts, I'd sell my shoon,' as the song says,
before I touched a farthing of Janet's money. But I had to take it from
her so as not to offend her. It is wonderful, the anxiety and affection
of women who live away out of the world like that. There was my mother,
quite sure that something awful was going to happen to me, merely
because I was going away for two or three months, And Janet--I suppose
she knew that our family never was very good at saving money--she would
have me take this little fortune of hers, just as if the old days were
come back, and the son of the house was supposed to go to Paris to
gamble away every penny."

"By the way, Macleod," said Ogilvie, "you have never gone to Paris, as
you intended."

"No," said he, trying to balance three nectarines one on the top of the
other, "I have not gone to Paris. I have made enough friends in London.
I have had plenty to occupy the time. And now, Ogilvie," he added,
brightly, "I am going in for my last frolic, before everybody has left
London, and you must come to it, even if you have to go down by your
cold-meat train again. You know Miss Rawlinson; you have seen her at
Mrs. Ross's, no doubt. Very well; I met her first when we went down to
the Thames yacht race, and afterwards we became great friends; and the
dear little old lady already looks on me as if I were her son. And do
you know what her proposal is? That she is to give me up her house and
garden for a garden party, and I am to ask my friends; and it is to be a
dance as well, for we shall ask the people to have supper at eight
o'clock or so; and then we shall have a marquee--and the garden all
lighted up--do you see? It is one of the largest gardens on Campden
Hill; and the colored lamps hung on the trees will make it look very
fine; and we shall have a band to play music for the dancers--"

"It will cost you L200 or L300 at least," said Ogilvie, sharply.

"What then? You give your friends a pleasant evening, and you show them
that you are not ungrateful," said Macleod.

Ogilvie began to ponder over this matter. The stories he had heard of
Macleod's extravagant entertainments were true, then. Suddenly he looked
up and said,--

"Is Miss White to be one of your guests?"

"I hope so," said he. "The theatre will be closed at the end of this
w