sort of withdrawing room; in the other stood the long banquet-table,
still covered with bright-colored flowers, and dishes of fruit, and
decanters and glasses. Ogilvie sat down, lit a cigar, and poured himself
out some claret.

"Macleod," said he, "I am going to talk to you like a father. I hear you
have been going on in a mad way. Surely you know that a batchelor coming
up to London for a season, and being asked about by people who are
precious glad to get unmarried men to their houses, is not expected to
give these swell dinner parties? And then, it seems, you have been
bringing down all your people in drags. What do those flowers cost you?
I dare say this is Lafitte, now?"

"And if it is, why not drink it and say no more about it? I think they
enjoyed themselves pretty well this evening--don't you, Ogilvie?"

"Yes, yes; but then, my dear fellow, the cost! You will say it is none
of my business; but what would your decent, respectable mother say to
all this extravagance?"

"Ah?" said Macleod, "that is just the thing; I should have more pleasure
in my little dinner parties if only the mother and Janet were here to
see. I think the table would look a good deal better if my mother was at
the head of it. And the cost?--oh, I am only following out her
instructions. She would not have people think that I was insensible to
the kindness that has been shown me; and then we cannot ask all those
good friends up to Castle Dare; it is an out-of-the-way place, and there
are no flowers on the dining-table there."

He laughed as he looked at the beautiful things before him; they would