t struck him that the lad must be lonely in such a place as
Fairport, he resolved to ask Lovel to dinner, in order to show him the
best society in the neighbourhood--that is to say, his friend, Sir
Arthur Wardour of Knockwinnock, and his daughter Isabella.

Sir Arthur was something of an antiquary also, but far less learned and
serious than Mr. Oldbuck. Living so near each other the two quarrelled
often about the Pictish Kings of Scotland, the character of Queen Mary,
and even other matters more modern--such as the lending of various sums
of money. For Sir Arthur always wanted to borrow, whereas the Antiquary
did not always want to lend. Sir Arthur was entirely careless as to
paying back, while Mr. Oldbuck stood firmly rooted upon the rights of
principal and interest. But on the whole they were good friends enough,
and the Baronet accordingly accepted, in a letter written by his
daughter, the invitation to Monkbarns.

Lovel arrived punctually on the afternoon appointed, for, in the
Antiquary's day, dinners took place at four o'clock! It was a brooding,
thundery day, sultry and threatening--the 17th of July, according to the
calendar.

Mr. Oldbuck had time to introduce his "most discreet sister Griselda" as
he called her, who came arrayed in all the finery of half a century
before, and wearing a mysterious erection on her head, something between
a wedding-cake and the Tower of Babel in a picture Bible, while his
niece, Miss MacIntyre, a pretty young woman with something of bright wit
about her, which came undoubtedly from her uncle's family, was arrayed
more in the fashion of the day.

Sir Arthur, with his daughter on his arm, presently arrived, and
respects, compliments, and introductions were interchanged. The dinner
was made up chiefly of Scottish national dainties, and everything went
well, save that the solan goose, a fragrant bird at all times, proved so
underdone that Mr. Oldbuck threatened to fling it at the head of the
housekeeper.

As soon as the ladies left the dining room, Sir Arthur and the Antiquary
plunged into their controversies, with a bottle of good port wine
between them, while Lovel set himself to listen with much amusement.

The language of the Picts, the building of the earliest Edinburgh
Castle, with other subjects, on none of which they agreed, made the two
wiseacres grow hotter and hotter, till at last the wrath of the man of
pedigree was roused by a chance statement of the Antiquary's tha