“Upon my life, your Ladyship has almost made me doubt if there be such a person,” said Tom, protruding his head through the curtains.
“I vow he's in the bed yonder!” said Lady Janet, starting back. “Flint, I think you are really too bad; this is all your doing, or yours, sir,” turning to Phillis with a face of anger.
“Yes, my Leddy, it's a' his meddlin'.”
“Eh, Leddy Janet, what's this?” said Sir Andrew, suddenly joining the party, after a very dangerous excursion along dark corridors and back stairs.
“We've strayed into Mr. Linton's room, I find,” said she, gathering up various small articles she had on entering thrown on the table. “I must only reserve my apologies for a more fitting time and place, and wish him 'good-night.'”
“I've even dune something o' the same wi' Mrs. Kannyfack,” said Sir Andrew. “She was in bed, though, and so I made my retreat undiscovered.”
“I regret, Lady Janet,” said Linton, politely, “that my present toilet does not permit me to show you to your apartment, but if you will allow Mr. Phillis—”
“Dinna get up, man,” broke in Sir Andrew, as he half pushed the invading party out of the door; “we'll find it vara weel, I 've na doubt.” And in a confused hubbub of excuses and grumblings they withdrew, leaving Linton once more to court slumber, if he could.
“I beg pardon, sir,” said Phillis, popping in his head the minute after, “but Mr. Downie Meek' has taken the rooms you meant for Lady Janet; they've pillaged all the chambers at either side for easy-chairs and cushions to—”
“With all my heart; let them settle the question between them, or leave it to arbitration. Shut the door, pray.”