Esther was a silent damsel.  The clash of keen wits and exchange of family repartee were quite beyond her.  She had often wondered whether her cousins were quarrelling, and had been only reassured by seeing them so merry and friendly, and her own brother bearing his part as naturally as the rest.  She was more scandalised than ever to-day, for it absolutely seemed to her that they were all treating Captain Evelyn, long moustache and all, like a mere family butt, certainly worse than they would have treated one of her own brothers, for Rob would have sulked, and Joe, or any of the younger ones, might have been dangerous, whereas this distinguished-looking personage bore all as angelically as befitted one called by such a charming appellation as the Honourable Cecil Evelyn.

“How about the shooting, Cecil?  Sydney said you had not very good sport.”

“Why-—no, not till I joined Rainsforth’s party.”

“Where was your moor?”

“In Lanarkshire,” rather unwillingly.

“Eh,” said Allen, in a peculiar soft languid tone, that meant diversion.  “Near L——?”

“Yes.”

Then Jock burst out into laughter inexplicable at first, but Allen made his voice gentler and graver, as he said, “You don’t mean Kilnaught?” and then he too joined Jock in laughter, as the latter cried—-

“Another victim to McNab of Kilnaught!  He certainly is the canniest of Scots.”

“He revenges the wrongs of Scotland on innocent young Guardsmen.”

“Well, I’m sure there could not be a more promising advertisement.”

“That’s just it!” said Jock.  “Moor and moss.  How many acres of heather?”

“How was I to expect a man of family to be a regular swindler?”

“Hush! hush, my dear fellow!  Roderick Dhu was a man of family.  It is the modern form.”

“But I saw his keeper.”

“Oh!” cried Allen.  “I know!  Old Rory!  Tells you a long story in broad Scotch, of which you understand one word here and there about his Grace the Deuke, and how many miles—-miles Scots—-he walked.”

“I can see Evelyn listening, and saying ‘yes,’ at polite intervals!”

“How many birds did you actually see?”

“Well, I killed two brace and a half the first day.”

“Hatched under a hen, and let out for a foretaste.”

“And there was one old blackcock.”

“That blackcock!  There are serious doubts whether it is a phantom bird, or whether Rory keeps it tame as a decoy.  You didn’t kill it?”

“No.”

“If you had, you might have boasted of an achievement,” said Allen.

“The spell would have been destroyed,” added Jock.  “But you did not let him finish.  Did you say you saw the blackcock?”

“I am not sure; I think I heard it rise once, but the keeper was always seeing it.”

Everybody but Essie was in fits of laughing at Cecil’s frank air of good-humoured, self-defensive simplicity, and Armine observed—­