As he sculled away he had a glimpse of the flirting daughter, whom he described to me briefly as being of such engaging appearance that six yards was a trying distance to be away from her.
"Here," thought Scrymgeour that night over a pipe of the Mixture, "the affair ends; though I dare say the young lady will call me terrible names when she hears that I have personated her lover.

I must take care to avoid the father now, for he will feel that I have been following him.

Perhaps I should have made a clean breast of it; but I do loathe explanations." [Illustration] Two days afterward Scrymgeour passed the father and daughter on the river.

The lady said "Thank you" to him with her eyes, and, still more remarkable, the old gentleman bowed.
Scrymgeour thought it over.

"She is grateful to me," he concluded, "for drawing away suspicion from the other man, but what can have made the father so amiable?
Suppose she has not told him that I am an impostor, he should still look upon me as a villain; and if she has told him, he should be still more furious.