“Do you expect any body?”
“Is it Geoffrey?”
“Impossible. Geoffrey is on his way to London.”
“There he is, any way,” resumed Mr. Bishopriggs, at the window. “He’s loupin’ down from his horse. He’s turning this way. Lord save us!” he exclaimed, with a start of consternation, “what do I see? That incarnate deevil, Sir Paitrick himself!”
Arnold sprang to his feet.
“Do you mean Sir Patrick Lundie?”
Anne ran to the window.
“It is Sir Patrick!” she said. “Hide yourself before he comes in!”
“Hide myself?”
“What will he think if he sees you with me?”