you at Charing Cross at ten to-morrow."

"And Miss White is a very brave young lady to attempt anything of the
kind," observed Mr. Ogilvie, confidentially, as they all went
downstairs; "for if the yachts should get becalmed of the Nore, or off
the Mouse, I wonder how Miss White will get back to London in time?"

"Oh, we shall take care of that," said Colonel Ross. "Unless there is a
good steady breeze we sha'n't go at all; we shall spend a happy day at
Rosherville, or have a look at the pictures at Greenwich. We sha'n't get
Miss White into trouble. Good-bye, Ogilvie. Good-bye, Sir Keith.
Remember ten o'clock, Charing Cross."

They stepped into their carriage and drove off.

"Now," said Macleod's companion, "are you tired?"

"Tired? I have done nothing all day."

"Shall we get into a hansom and drive along to Lady Beauregard's?"

"Certainly, if you like. I suppose they won't throw you over again?"

"Oh no," said Mr. Ogilvie, as he once more adventured his person in a
cab. "And I can tell you it is much better--if you look at the thing
philosophically, as poor wretches like you and me must--to drive to a
crush in a hansom than in your own carriage. You don't worry about your
horses being kept out in the rain; you can come away at any moment;
there is no fussing with servants, and rows because your man has got out
of the rank--HOLD UP!"