t the
Baronet's famous ancestor, Gamelyn de Guardover, who had signed the
Ragman Roll, showed thereby a mean example of submitting to Edward of
England.

"It is enough, sir," said Sir Arthur, starting up fiercely. "I shall
hereafter take care how I honour with my company one who shows himself
so ungrateful for my condescension."

"In that you will do as you find most agreeable, Sir Arthur," returned
the Antiquary. "I hope that, as I was not aware of the full extent of
the obligation you had done me by visiting my poor house, I may be
excused for not having carried my gratitude to the extent of
servility."

"Mighty well--mighty well, Mr. Oldbuck--I wish you a good evening,
Mr.--ah--ah--Shovel--I wish you a very good evening."

And so saying Sir Arthur flounced out, and with long strides traversed
the labyrinth of passages, seeking for the drawing-room of Monkbarns.

"Did you ever see such a tup-headed old ass?" said the Antiquary, "but I
must not let him burst in on the ladies in this mad way either."

So Mr. Oldbuck ran after his adversary, who was in great danger of
tumbling down the back stairs and breaking his shins over various
collections of learned and domestic rubbish piled in dark corners.

"Stay a minute, Sir Arthur," said the Antiquary, at last capturing him
by the arm; "don't be quite so hasty, my good old friend! I _was_ a
little rude to you about Sir Gamelyn--why, he is an old acquaintance of
mine--kept company with Wallace and Bruce, and only subscribed the
Ragman Roll with the just intention of circumventing the Southern--'twas
right Scottish craft--hundreds did it! Come, come--forget and
forgive--confess we have given the young fellow here a right to think us
two testy old fools."

"Speak for yourself, Mr. Jonathan Oldbuck," said Sir Arthur, with much
majesty.

"Awell--awell," said the Antiquary, with a sigh, "a wilful man must have
his way!"

And the Baronet accordingly stalked into the drawing-room, pettishly
refused to accept either tea or coffee, tucked his daughter under his
arm, and, having said the driest of good-byes to the company at large,
off he marched.

"I think Sir Arthur has got the black dog on his back again!" said Miss
Oldbuck.

"Black dog! Black deil!" cried her brother; "he's more absurd than
womankind. What say you, Lovel? Why, the lad's gone too."

"Yes," said Miss MacIntyre, "he took his leave while Miss Wardour was
putting on her things."

"Deil's in the people