head of the family."

"Consider me as abdicating my position, Lady Lundie, in your favor."

"Sir Patrick, I beg you to observe that I am speaking seriously, and
that I expect a serious reply."

"My good lady, ask me for any thing else and it is at your service. I
have not made a serious reply since I gave up practice at the
Scottish Bar. At my age," added Sir Patrick, cunningly drifting into
generalities, "nothing is serious--except Indigestion. I say, with the
philosopher, 'Life is a comedy to those who think, and tragedy to those
who feel.'" He took his sister-in-law's hand, and kissed it. "Dear Lady
Lundie, why feel?"

Lady Lundie, who had never "felt" in her life, appeared perversely
determined to feel, on this occasion. She was offended--and she showed
it plainly.

"When you are next called on, Sir Patrick, to judge of Miss Silvester's
conduct," she said, "unless I am entirely mistaken, you will find
yourself _compelled_ to consider it as something beyond a joke." With
those words, she walked out of the summer-house--and so forwarded
Arnold's interests by leaving Blanche's guardian alone at last.

It was an excellent opportunity. The guests were safe in the
house--there was no interruption to be feared, Arnold showed himself.
Sir Patrick (perfectly undisturbed by Lady Lundie's parting speech) sat
down in the summer-house, without noticing his young friend, and asked
himself a question founded on profound observation of the female sex.