Thenceforth, when men asked who was Christie Johnstone's lad, the answer
used to be, "She's seeking ane." _Quelle horreur!!_

Newhaven doesn't know everything, but my intelligent reader suspects,
and, if confirming his suspicions can reconcile him to our facts, it will
soon be done.

But he must come with us to Edinburgh; it's only three miles.



CHAPTER VI.


A LITTLE band of painters came into Edinburgh from a professional walk.
Three were of Edinburgh--Groove, aged fifty; Jones and Hyacinth, young;
the latter long-haired.

With them was a young Englishman, the leader of the expedition, Charles
Gatty.

His step was elastic, and his manner wonderfully animated, without
loudness.

"A bright day," said he. "The sun forgot where he was, and shone;
everything was in favor of art."

"Oh, dear, no," replied old Groove, "not where I was"