"You will just take the tray to the kitchen."
"That is the last order you will gie Flora McNab, ma'am."
"Your threat is an old one, McNab; I'm not fearing it."
"Nor me expecting you to be feared. When you dinna fear God Almighty, why would you be fearing the like o' me? Out o' the way then, and let me by you wi' the tray."
Very uncomfortable was the family breakfast that morning. Something was the matter with Jepson. Every dish was cold, and is there any food nastier than cold porridge and cold boiled fish? Robert grumbled over his plates, and Mrs. Campbell was equally cross, and still more explanatory of her temper. About the middle of the meal, McNab entered the room in her church bonnet, and her double Paisley shawl, pinned with its large Cairngorm brooch. Robert looked at her in amazement, and with a laugh that was not a pleasant one, asked:
"Where are you going, McNab, so early in the morning?"
"Back to the Hielands, sir. Pay me my wage, and I'll be awa' in time for the Perth train."
"You are not going to leave us?"
"That is just what I am going to do."
"Nonsense!"