of her own composition?--and a pleasanter beverage he had never drank.

But she seemed to pay little attention to these matters, for she kept
glancing at her father, who, as he addressed Macleod from time to time,
was obviously nervous and harassed about something. At last she said,--

"Papa, what is the matter with you? Has anything gone wrong this
morning?"

"Oh, my dear child," said he, "don't speak of it. It is my memory--I
fear my memory is going. But we will not trouble our guest about it. I
think you were saying, Sir Keith, that you had seen the latest additions
to the National Gallery--"

"But what is it, papa?" his daughter insisted.

"My dear, my dear, I know I have the lines somewhere; and Lord ---- says
that the very first jug fired at the new pottery he is helping shall
have these lines on it, and be kept for himself. I know I have both the
Spanish original and the English translation somewhere; and all the
morning I have been hunting and hunting--for only one line. I think I
know the other three,--

'Old wine to drink.
Old wrongs let sink,
* * * *
Old friends in need.'

It is the third line that has escaped me--dear, dear me! I fear my brain
is going."