what the better is he o' that? Na, na,
there's to be no trokin', nor eyesdropping, nor yet slipping of notes
into itching palms, nor seeing one another to doors!--Och, aye, I ken
the gait o't fine. Mony is the time I have seen it travelled. This young
leddy is for your betters, sirrah, and being but the son of a village
dominie, and working for your bread among Leein' Johnny's hundred black
men in Parliament Close, ye may--an it please ye, and _if_ ye please,
gie this door a wide gae-by. For if ye come a second time, Samuel Whan,
the porter, will have his orders to steek the yett in your face!"

"Madame," said I, very fine, "it shall not be done twice!"

I stole a glance at Irma, who was standing with her face white and her
lips trembling.

"No," said she, "nor yet once. I came here at your request, Aunt
Kirkpatrick. For years and years my brother and I have sorned on the
family of this gentleman--you yourself grant he is that----"

"No such thing!" snapped my lady Kirkpatrick, "gentleman indeed--a
newsmonger's apprentice! That's your gentrice!"

"We dwelt there, my brother and I," Irma went on, "none of my family
troubling their heads or their purses about us, yet without a plack we
were treated as brother and sister by all the family."

"Be off, then, with your brother, since you are so fond of him!" cried
the fiery old lady, rising with a long black cane in her hand, a terrier
yelping and snapping at her heels. "I am for London next week, and I
cannot be at the chairge of a daft hempie, especially one of such low,
common tastes."

At these words, so unexpected and uncalled for, Irma put out her hand
and took mine. She spoke very gently.

"Duncan," she said, "we are not wanted here. Let us be going!"

"But--Irma----!" I gasped, for even then I would take no advantage.
"Whither shall I conduct you? Have you other friends in Edinburgh?"

"Before a minister!" she said. "That will be best. I have no friends
but you!"

"Aye, there ye are!" cried the old lady, "I was sure there was something
at the back of this sudden flight to Edinburgh. The dear little
brother--oh, but we were that fond of him--the poor, poor innocent
bairn. Such a comfort for him to know his sister near at hand! Yet,
though I have done with you, Mistress Irma Sobieski, I may say that I
wish you no ill. Make a better use of your youth than maybe I have done.
If ye need a helping hand, there's my sister Frances out at the
Sciennes. She's fair