the air. "James of Avondale, indeed--" she said, "he is not to be
compared either for dignity or strength with the Earl himself, nor yet
with many others whom I know of lesser estate."

"Sholto MacKim," cried the clear piping voice of the little Margaret,
"how in the world am I to keep hold of your hair if you shake and jerk
your head about like that? If you do not keep still I will send for
that pretty boy over there in the scarlet vest, or ask my cousin James
to ride with me. And he will, too, I know--for he likes bravely to be
beside my dear, sweet Maud Lindesay."

After this Sholto held his head erect and forth-looking, as if he had
been under the inspection of the Earl and were doubtful of his weapons
passing muster.

There came a subtle and roguish smile into the eyes of Mistress Maud
Lindesay as she observed the stiffening of Sholto's bearing.

"Who were those others of humbler estate?" he queried, sending his
words straight out of his lips like pellets from a pop-gun, being in
fear lest he should unsettle the hand of the small tyrant upon his
hair.

"Your brother Laurence for one," replied the minx, for no other
purpose than to see the flush of disappointment tinge his brow with
sudden red.

"I wish my brother Laurence were in--" he began. But the girl
interrupted him.