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‘I mean—does she take it from a relation, as I have always heard was the admirable Scotch way?’

‘Weel, sir,’ said the old lady, ‘if that is all, I have little doubt ye are quite right. She would get it, it’s mair than probable, from her mither.’

The Colonel gazed upon her with surprise. More than probable! what did she mean? ‘Then it is your name too,’ he said, with a little disappointment. There arose from the group a sudden burst of laughter and explanation and denials, of which he could not make out a word. ‘Na, na,’—that was all that reached him clearly. But what was meant by it—whether that it was not the old mother’s name, or what other negative—he could not make out: and just at this moment Mr. Bellendean and Norman came up to him and drew him away.

‘You have had enough of this, I am sure, Colonel. Come along, we are going down to the Ferry to see what Essex and the rest are after. It’s very good of you to give us your countenance to the last.’

‘My countenance! nothing of the sort, Norman. I’m very much interested.’