“I know the amount professionally charged, but——”
“I will pay the professional amount. If we give the mornings to this work, in the afternoons we will ride, and sail, fish or swim, or pay visits—in the evenings there will be dinner, billiards, and conversation. Are you willing?”
“I am delighted at the prospect. Let the arrangement stand, just so.”
“You will be ready tomorrow?”
“The day after tomorrow.”
“Good. I will——”
Then there was a tap at the door, and before Neil could answer it, Christine did so. As she entered, Ballister stood up and looked at her, and his eyes grew round with delighted amazement. She was in full fisher costume—fluted cap on the back of her curly head, scarlet kerchief on her neck, long gold rings in her ears, gold beads round her throat, and a petticoat in broad blue and yellow stripes.
“Christine,” said Neil, who, suddenly relieved of his great anxiety, was unusually good-tempered. “Christine, this is my friend, Mr. Angus Ballister. You must have heard me speak of him?”
“That’s a fact. The man was your constant talk”—then turning to Ballister—“I am weel pleased to see you, Sir;” and she made him a little curtsey so full of independence that Ballister knew well she 46 was making it to herself—“and I’m wondering at you twa lads,” she said, “sitting here in the house, when you might be sitting i’ the garden, or on the rocks, and hae the scent o’ the sea, or the flowers about ye.”
“Miss Ruleson is right,” said Ballister, in his most enthusiastic mood. “Let us go into the garden. Have you really a garden among these rocks? How wonderful!”