“And they died!” I exclaimed.

“They held out a very long time.  Austrian Grenadiers they were, of the corps of Starowitz, fine stout men as big as your friend of yesterday; but when the town fell there were but four hundred alive, and a man could lift them three at a time as if they were little monkeys.  It was a pity.  Ah! my friend, you will do me the honours with madame and with mademoiselle.”

It was my mother and Edie who had come into the kitchen.  He had not seen them the night before, but now it was all I could do to keep my face as I watched him; for instead of our homely Scottish nod, he bent up his back like a louping trout, and slid his foot, and clapped his hand over his heart in the queerest way.  My mother stared, for she thought he was making fun of her; but Cousin Edie fell into it in an instant, as though it had been a game, and away she went in a great curtsy until I thought she would have had to give it up, and sit down right there in the middle of the kitchen floor.  But no, she up again as light as a piece of fluff, and we all drew up our stools and started on the scones and milk and porridge.

He had a wonderful way with women, that man.  Now if I were to do it, or Jim Horscroft, it would look as if we were playing the fool, and the girls would have laughed at us; but with him it seemed to go with his style of face and fashion of speech, so that one came at last to look for it:  for when he spoke to my mother or Cousin Edie—­and he was never backward in speaking—­it would always be with a bow and a look as if it would hardly be worth their while to listen to what he had to say, and when they answered he would put on a face as though every word they said was to be treasured up and remembered for ever.  And yet, even while he humbled himself to a woman, there was always a proud sort of look at the back of his eye as if he meant to say that it was only to them that he was so meek, and that he could be stiff enough upon occasion.  As to my mother, it was wonderful the way she softened to him, and in half-an-hour she had told him all about her uncle, who was a surgeon in Carlisle, and the highest of any upon her side of the house.  She spoke to him about my brother Rob’s death, which I had never heard her mention to a soul before, and he looked as if the tears were in his eyes over it—­he, who had just told us how he had seen three thousand men starved to death!  As to Edie, she did not say much, but she kept shooting little glances at our visitor, and once or twice he looked very hard at her.

When he had gone to his room after breakfast, my father pulled out eight golden pounds and laid them on the table.  “What think ye of that, Martha?” said he.

“You’ve sold the twa black tups after all.”

“No, but it’s a month’s pay for board and lodging from Jock’s friend, and as much to come every four weeks.”

But my mother shook her head when she heard it.