“Diplomat, Uncle!” cried the girl, vehement indignation in her voice and face. “Diplomat!” she cried again. “You don't mean that I've not been quite sincere?”
“No, no, no; not in the least, my dear! But that you have put your case with admirable force.”
“Oh,” said the girl with a breath of relief, “I just put it as I feel it. And it is not a bit my putting it, Uncle, but it is just that you are a dear and—well, a real sport; you love fair play.” The girl suddenly threw her strong, young arms about her uncle's neck, drew him close to her, and kissed him almost as if she had been his mother.
The little man was deeply touched, but with true Scotch horror of a demonstration he cried, “Tut, tut, lassie, ye're makin' an auld fule o' your uncle. Come now, be sensible!”
“Sensible!” echoed his niece, kissing him again. “That's my living description among all my acquaintance. It is their gentle way of reminding me that the ordinary feminine graces of sweetness and general loveliness are denied me.”
“And more fools they!” grunted her uncle. “You're worth the hale caboodle o' them.”
That same evening there were others who shared this opinion, and none more enthusiastically than did Mr. Dunn, whom Miss Brodie chanced to meet just as she turned out of the Waverly Station.
“Oh, Mr. Dunn,” she cried, “how very fortunate!” Her face glowed with excitement.
“For me; yes, indeed!” said Mr. Dunn, warmly greeting her.
“For me, for young Cameron, for us all,” said Miss Brodie. “Oh, Rob, is that you?” she continued, as her eye fell upon the youngster standing with cap off waiting her recognition. “Look at this!” she flashed a letter before Dunn's face. “What do you think of that?”
Dunn took the letter. “It's to Sheratt,” he said, with a puzzled air.
“Yes,” cried Miss Brodie, mimicking his tone, “it's to Sheratt, from Sir Archibald, and it means that Cameron is safe. The police will never—”
“The police,” cried Dunn, hastily, getting between young Rob and her and glancing at his brother, who stood looking from one to the other with a startled face.
“How stupid! The police are a truly wonderful body of men,” she went on with enthusiasm. “They look so splendid. I saw some of them as I came along. But never mind them now. About this letter. What's to do?”
Dunn glanced at his watch. “We need every minute.” He stood a moment or two thinking deeply while Miss Brodie chatted eagerly with Rob, whose face retained its startled and anxious look. “First to Mr. Rae's office. Come!” cried Mr. Dunn.
“But this letter ought to go.”
“Yes, but first Mr. Rae's office.” Mr. Dunn had assumed command. His words shot out like bullets.
Miss Brodie glanced at him with a new admiration in her face. As a rule she objected to being ordered about, but somehow it seemed good to accept commands from this young man, whose usually genial face was now set in such resolute lines.
“Here, Rob, you cut home and tell them not to wait dinner for me.”
“All right, Jack!” But instead of tearing off as was his wont whenever his brother gave command, Rob lingered. “Can't I wait a bit, Jack, to see—to see if anything—?” Rob was striving hard to keep his voice in command and his face steady. “It's Cameron, Jack. I know!” He turned his back on Miss Brodie, unwilling that she should see his lips quiver.
“What are you talking about?” said his brother sharply.
“Oh, it is all my stupid fault, Mr. Dunn,” said Miss Brodie. “Let him come along a bit with us. I say, youngster, you are much too acute,” she continued, as they went striding along together toward Mr. Rae's office. “But will you believe me if I tell you something? Will you? Straight now?”
The boy glanced up into her honest blue eyes, and nodded his head.
“Your friend Cameron is quite all right. He was in some difficulty, but now he's quite all right. Do you believe me?”
The boy looked again steadily into her eyes. The anxious fear passed out of his face, and once more he nodded; he knew he could not keep his voice quite steady. But after a few paces he said to his brother, “I think I'll go now, Jack.” His mind was at rest; his idol was safe.
“Oh, come along and protect me,” cried Miss Brodie. “These lawyer people terrify me.”
The boy smiled a happy smile. “I'll go,” he said resolutely.
“Thanks, awfully,” said Miss Brodie. “I shall feel so much safer with you in the waiting room.”
It was a difficult matter to surprise Mr. Rae, and even more difficult to extract from him any sign of surprise, but when Dunn, leaving Miss Brodie and his brother in the anteroom, entered Mr. Rae's private office and laid the letter for Mr. Sheratt before him, remarking, “This letter is from Sir Archibald, and withdraws the prosecution,” Mr. Rae stood speechless, gazing now at the letter in his hand, and now at Mr. Dunn's face.
“God bless my soul! This is unheard of. How came you by this, Sir?”
“Miss Brodie—” began Dunn.
“Miss Brodie?”
“She is in the waiting room, Sir.”
“Then, for heaven's sake, bring her in! Davie, Davie! Where is that man now? Here, Davie, a message to Mr. Thomlinson.”
Davie entered with deliberate composure.
“My compliments to Mr. Thomlinson, and ask if he would step over at once. It is a matter of extreme urgency. Be quick!”
But Davie had his own mind as to the fitness of things. “Wad a note no' be better, Sir? Wull not—?”
“Go, will you!” almost shouted Mr. Rae.
Davie was so startled at Mr. Rae's unusual vehemence that he seized his cap and made for the door. “He'll no' come for the like o' me,” he said, pausing with the door-knob in his hand. “It's no' respectable like tae—”
“Man, will ye no' be gone?” cried Mr. Rae, rising from his chair.
“I will that!” exclaimed Davie, banging the door after him. “But,” he cried furiously, thrusting his head once more into the room, “if he'll no' come it's no' faut o' mine.” His voice rose higher and higher, and ended in a wrathful scream as Mr. Rae, driven to desperation, hurled a law book of some weight at his vanishing head.
“The de'il take ye! Ye'll be my deith yet.”
The book went crashing against the door-frame just as Miss Brodie was about to enter. “I say,” she cried, darting back. “Heaven protect me! Rob, save me!”
Rob sprang to her side. She stood for a moment gazing aghast at Mr. Dunn, who gazed back at her in equal surprise. “Is this his 'usual'?” she inquired.
At that the door opened. “Ah, Mr. Dunn, this is Miss Brodie, I suppose. Come in, come in!” Mr. Rae's manner was most bland.
Miss Brodie gave him her hand with some hesitation. “I'm very glad to meet you, Mr. Rae, but is this quite the usual method? I mean to say, I've heard of having advice hurled at one's head, but I can't say that I ever was present at a demonstration of the method.”
“Oh,” said Mr. Rae, with bland and gallant courtesy, “the method, my dear young lady, varies with the subject in hand.”
“Ah, the subject!”
“And with the object in view.”
“Oh,