"He is a very fine gentleman, mother," said Christina.
"He is auld, and auld-farrant."
"He is not over forty-five, and he is far from being old-fashioned. He is up to the nick of the times in everything."
"Your brother never thinks of any manly quality but money. He says Sir Thomas is rich. I wouldn't wonder if he has only the name o' riches. But, rich or poor, he is coming to dinner, and I be to see McNab anent the eatables. A very moderate dinner will do, I should say."
"Make the finest dinner you can, mother, and it will be only a pot-luck affair to Sir Thomas," answered Christina. "He is rich, and he is powerful in politics, and he has one of the finest castles in Midlothian. He is well worth a good dinner, mother, and Robert will like to see he has one."
"What do you say, Isabel?"
"I say Robert is worth pleasing, mother. The other man is a problem, perhaps it may be worth while to please him, perhaps not. The negatives generally win, I've noticed that."
"Well, well! The dinner is all we can cater for—there's accidentals anent every affair, and they are beyont us, as a rule. Are either of you going out this afternoon?"
"There is nothing to take me out," said Isabel.
"I was out late last night," said Christina. "I shall rest this afternoon. Sir Thomas is rather a weariness. We shall all be thankful when he makes his court bow and says, 'Good-night, ladies! I have had a perfectly delightsome evening.'" She boldly mimicked the baronet's broad Scotch speech and courtly debonair manner, without any fear of the cold silence, or cutting reproofs her mimicry used to provoke.