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Updated: May 25, 2025
The company turned with one accord and beheld a tall youth, attired in tweeds, march confidently into the room. They scrutinized him as he advanced, merely wondering what cousin or could it be brother? he was. "Surely that's not Frank?" murmured Lord Kilconquar. It certainly was not Frank; and yet it was some one who looked strangely familiar to one or two of the older people present.
They wished to be charitable but what a family resemblance! "I I I tell you it's a put-up job!" stammered their host. "Who put it up, father?" asked the strange youth plaintively. Lord Kilconquar shook his head, and again the startled company followed his lead.
"He is a noble creature, but at moments a little inconsistent," they mutually confided. And then she wrote the names of Lord and Lady Kilconquar on their card. And that is how Jean might have been spending her evenings too, had she had proper principles. The gentlemen entered the drawing-room, bringing a faint aroma of Andrew's excellent cigars.
"Andrew!" she cried, her cheeks suddenly very pink, her eyes strangely excited, her voice trembling with the fervor of her appeal. "He must be oh, he must be! Look look at the likeness to your father! Oh, Andrew, what if it is irregular; surely you wouldn't deny the living image of poor Heriot!" "By Gad! So he is," exclaimed Lord Kilconquar. A general murmur instinctively confirmed this verdict.
He would set this dinner against the odd two guineas in dispute. That, anyhow was an equitable principle, if ever there was one. "And of course Lord and Lady Kilconquar?" "Of course," said Andrew. "And Sir William Sinclair?" Andrew nodded. "Must we ask the Mackintoshes?" Andrew frowned. "They'll do for our next dinner." That was not going to be quite so smart a function.
Of course the wines were unexceptionable, while the company recognized itself as a homogeneous specimen of all that was best in the city with the Ramornies of Pettigrew thrown in. Here they were now, the whole twenty-two of them from old Lord Kilconquar, most eminent of judges, down to that rising young Hector Donaldson, bearing implicit testimony to the status of Andrew Walkingshaw.
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