The turfs burned red, the cruisie burned low, the wheel “hummed” monotonously, and Maggie stepped lightly to-and-fro before it. In an hour the silence became oppressive, she was sleepy, she wished Davie would speak to her. She laid her fingers on the broad wooden band and was just going to move, when the inner door was opened, and the stranger stood at it. His pause was but a momentary one, but the room was all picture to him, especially the tall fair woman with her hand upon the big wheel, and her face, sensitive and questioning, turned toward her brother.
“David Promoter.”
“Ay, sir.” He moved slowly like a man awakening from a sleep, but very quickly shook off the intense personality of his mood, and turned to the stranger with a shy and yet keen alertness.
“I dinna ken your name, sir, or I wad call you by it.”
“My name is Allan Campbell.”
“Sit down, sir. You are vera welcome. Can I do aught to pleasure you?”
“I want my trunk from Largo. Yesterday the sea was too heavy to bring it. Can you get it for me to-morrow?”
“An’ the sea be willing, sir.”
“There is a box of books also, but they are very heavy.”
“Books! We’ll try and bring them ony way.”