Courage, True Hearts: Sailing in Search of Fortune. Stables Gordon

men and women here, less apparent poverty, in fact, with the exception of the poor, white-faced, hungry-looking girls and women who were selling flowers. During a block one of these came to the window near which Duncan sat, and he made the lassie happy by buying two button-holes, and giving her sixpence for them.

      The 'buses were objects of curiosity for our heroes.

      The drivers were ideal in their own way, and of a class not to be met with anywhere out of London.

      The boys criticised them unmercifully.

      "Oh, Duncan, did ever you see such faces, or such slow-looking men!"

      "Faces just like hams, Conal-and, why, they seem to be wearing about twenty coats! So solemn too-I wonder if ever those fellows smiled except over a pint of beer!"

      "And look at those huge wooden umbrellas!"

      "Yes, that is for fear a drop of rain should fall upon John Guttle, and he should catch cold."

      "Shouldn't I like to see one of these John Guttles trudging over a moor!"

      "He wouldn't trudge far, Conal; he would tumble down and gasp like an over-fed ox."

      "I say, Duncan, I haven't seen anybody with a plaid yet."

      "No, and you won't. Top-coats-nothing else-and tobacco-pipes. No wonder most of those male creatures on the tops of the 'buses are watery-nebbit or red-nosed."

      Now, however, private carriages began to mingle with the traffic, and the boys had more to wonder at. But inside these they caught glimpses of fashionable ladies, some young, charmingly dressed, and of a cast of beauty truly English and refined. What astonished Duncan and his brother most was the coachman and flunkeys on the dickey, so severely and stupidly aristocratic did they look.

      "Oh, Duncan," cried Conal laughing, "did ever you see such frights! and they've got on ladies' fur tippets!"

      "Yes, that is to keep their poor shivery bodies warm, Conal."

      "And they look just as if they owned all London, don't they?"

      "Yes, that is one of the peculiarities of the flunkey tribe. What's the odds, Conal, so long as they are happy?"

      The cab seemed to have reached the suburbs at last. Here were many a pleasant villa, and many a lordly mansion too, with splendid balconies, which were in reality gardens in the sky. There were trees, too, though now almost bare, and green lawns and bushes and flowers.

      But none of these latter appealed to our young heroes because they were all so artificial.

      Hillo! the cab stops; and the driver, radiant in the expectation of a tip, throws open the door.

      "'Ere we are at last, young gents. 'Appy to drink yer 'ealth. Thousand thanks! Hain't seen a 'alf-crown before for a month. Nobuddy needn't say to me as the Scots ain't liberal."

      One of the handsomest villas the boys had yet seen, and in the porch thereof stood Colonel Trelawney himself to welcome his guests.

      "Right welcome to the Limes," he cried heartily. "Frank is out, but he'll be home to luncheon. Why, what tall hardy chaps you are, to be sure, and I'm right glad you came in your native dress. I wonder how my boy would look in the kilt. It's a matter of legs, I believe."

      "Oh, sir," said Duncan, "he'll soon get legs when he comes to the Highlands, and climbs the hills and walks the moors for a few months."

      "Well, come in, boys. James, here, will show you your room. We've put you both in the same, as I know young fellows like to talk before turning in."

      The room was plainly, yet comfortably, furnished, and the window gave a pleasant view of gardens, shrubberies, and a cloudland of trees to which the autumn foliage still was clinging.

      "'Ot watah, young gents."

      "Thank you, James."

      Duncan and Conal made haste to wash and dress.

      James had opened their boxes, and was acting as valet to them in every way. But they were not used to this, and so they told James. God had given them hands and arms, and so they liked to make use of them.

      Hark! footsteps on the stairs. Hurried ones, too; two steps, one stride!

      Next moment the door was thrown open, and Frank himself stood before them, with both hands extended to bid them welcome.

      CHAPTER III. – THE BOYS' LIFE IN LONDON

      "Cousin Frank!"

      "That's me. And how are you, cousins Conal and Duncan? We're only far-off cousins, but that doesn't matter, does it? I'm jolly glad to see you, anyhow. You'll bring some life into this dull old hole; and I'll find some fun for you, you bet."

      "Did you ask if we betted?" said Duncan, smiling, but serious. "We wouldn't be allowed to."

      "No, no. 'You bet' is just an expression; for, mind you, everybody speaks slang nowadays in town. Oh, I don't bet-as a rule, though I did have a pony on the Oxford and Cambridge last race."

      "And did the pony win?" asked Conal, naïvely.

      "Eh? What? Ha, ha, ha! Why, it's a boat race, and a pony is a fiver. I'd saved the cash for a year, and like a fool I blewed it at last."

      Well, if Frank Trelawney was not very much to look at as regards body, he was frank and open, with a handsome English face, all too pale, however, and he seemed to have more worldly wisdom in his noddle than Duncan, Conal, and Viking all put together.

      After talking a little longer to our Highland heroes Frank knelt down and threw his arms around the great dog's neck, and Viking condescended to lick his cheek.

      "I'm so glad that old Vike takes to you, Frank," said Duncan. "It isn't everybody he likes."

      "Of course," said Frank, "'old' is merely a term of endearment, as father would say."

      "That's it. He is only a year and six months old, but already there is nothing scarcely that he does not know, in country life, I mean, though I suppose he will be rather strange in town for a time."

      "Sure to be. But here comes James. Luncheon served, James, eh?"

      "Luncheon all ready, Master Frank."

      They found the Colonel walking up and down the well-lighted hall smoking a cigarette. He was really a most inveterate smoker. He smoked before breakfast, after breakfast, all the forenoon, and all day long. Rolled his own cigarettes, too, so that his fore and middle fingers were indelibly stained yellow with the tobacco.

      "Horrid habit!" he always told boys, "but I've become a slave to it. Don't you ever smoke."

      Though some years over sixty, Trelawney was as straight as a telephone pole, handsome, and soldierly in face and bearing. The only thing that detracted from his facial appearance was a slight degree of bagginess betwixt the lower eyelids and the cheek bones. This was brought on, his doctor had told him often and often, by weakness of the heart caused by tobacco and wine. But Trelawney would not punish himself by leaving either off.

      The boys took to Mrs. Trelawney from the very first. She must have been fully twenty years younger than the Colonel, and had a sweet, even beautiful, face, and was altogether winning.

      Well, that was a luncheon of what might be called elegant kickshaws, artistically cooked and served, but eminently unsatisfactory from a Scotch point of view.

      The dinner in the evening was much the same, and really when these Highland lads got up from the table they almost longed for the honest, "sonsy" fleshpots of Glenvoie.

      Walnuts and wine for dessert! But they did not drink wine, and would have preferred a cocoa-nut or two to the walnuts. There would have been some satisfaction in that.

      A private box for the theatre!

      "Oh," cried Duncan, "that will be nice!"

      "You have often been at the theatre, dear, haven't you?"

      This from Mrs. Trelawney, as she placed her very much be-ringed fingers on Conal's shoulder.

      "No, auntie," replied Conal; "only just once, with Duncan there. It was in Glasgow. They were playing 'Rob Roy',