CHAPTER IX.
“I am a son of Mars, who have been in many wars.”—Burns.
“Oh, Hope, Alick’s come,” exclaimed Adelaide Fendie one bright August day, as she alighted from the nondescript gig driven by John Brown, and went with her arm linked in her friend’s into the banker’s sober dining-room. “Mamma is so glad—we’re all so glad—Alick’s come.”
“And, Hope,” added Victoria, “somebody else is come too. It’s the sword and cocked hat that Tibbie saw at Hallowe’en. Oh, Hope, if you only saw him!”
“Who is it, Adelaide?” asked Hope.
“It’s—Alick’s come,” said the slow Adelaide with her dull blush, “mamma is so glad, Hope; and we’re to have a ball and parties—I don’t know how many—and Mossgray and young Mr Graeme are coming to dine to-morrow, and next week we are going to Mossgray—because Miss Maxwell will never go out anywhere now you know, and Mr Graeme wants to have Alick and me,” added Adelaide, with a dignified consciousness of having reached the full years of young ladyhood. “I’m to go too.”
“Will Mossgray ask you, Hope?” inquired Victoria.
“Hope is too young,” said Adelaide, in her new dignity. “Doesn’t mamma tell you, Victoria, not to talk about things you don’t understand? but though you’re too young to go out to parties yet, Hope, you’re to come up and see Alick: and there’s Alick’s friends too, you know.”
Hope was offended. She was full fifteen, and thought herself a very mature womanly person, so she condescended to ask no further questions about Alick’s friends, though Victoria’s malicious laugh, and the dull consciousness of Adelaide, made Hope a little curious; but Hope’s mind was occupied with things of very much more importance than cocked hats or swords.
“Adelaide, does Alick know about Peter Delvie? oh, Mr Insches says perhaps it is not true—and poor Saunders!—does Alick know anything, Adelaide; does Alick think it is true?”