Playing With Fire

by Amelia E. Barr

"No. I have only made available a much larger sum. Many years ago, while riding with the late Lord, I noticed a peculiar appearance of the sea among the little bays that wash the northern part of the estate. I thought to myself, 'There is an oyster bed there,' but I said nothing, for the late Lord was only too speculative, and I needed all his money and all his interest at that time to get the property out of trouble. When Lord Richard was in the same trouble I remembered my suspicions, and sent half a dozen old oyster fishers to examine the situation. They found immense beds of oysters, and now there is an oyster fishery village there, and just one mile of railroad connects it with the line to Edinburgh. And, man! there's your market all waiting and ready. There never was such wonderful luck!"

"But the village and the necessary materials, the boats and cottages, the railroad and other requirements, must have cost a lot of money."

"To be sure they have. I have put a lot into the development myself. Why not? It will pay splendidly. Your future son-in-law will not only have a steady flow of gold from his oyster beds, they will also supply him with something to do and to look after. I have thought of that. I know it is good for men to come constantly in contact with facts. It helps them to keep their moral health. Tell Marion her lover may be home in three months, and I hope, Ian, you will no longer oppose their marriage."

"Marion can marry when she is twenty-one. Not until."

"You cannot prevent the young from marrying. They will do it. Donald tells me he is to be married on the fifth of December. I suppose you know whom to?"

"I know nothing about Donald, excepting that on the steamer to New York he met a Scotchman called Macbeth, and that somehow they struck up a friendship, and Donald was going with him to a place called Los Angeles. He appears to be much older than Donald. I do not understand such friendships, and, as I did not answer Donald's letter, he did not write again—and I have heard nothing further."

"I will tell you further, though you are not deserving the news—the why and wherefore of the friendship between Donald and Mr. Macbeth was, first of all, that they both played the violin and both loved it, and on the voyage they turned the smoking-room into a concert room, for the Captain played likewise, and he brought his violin there when he could. The second thing was that everyone—men and women—were loving Donald, and when they reached New York Macbeth would not part with the lad, and they went together to Los Angeles, and then to his handsome home a few miles from the city. There he had great vineyards and farms of figs and lemons, and wonderful peaches and pears, and Donald has taken gladly and happily to helping him in the making of wines and raisins and the drying of fruit. The work is all out of doors in a climate like Paradise. In the evenings they play their violins and sing Scotch songs, and are as near heaven as they can be on earth."

"You can't sing Scotch songs anywhere but in Scotland. They won't bear transplanting any better than bell-heather. Fancy bell-heather in a London park!"

"Scotchmen are singing them all over this world, and, for all I know, all over other worlds; but we are getting away from our subject, which was my nephew, Donald Macrae. This Mr. Macbeth has a daughter, a beautiful girl, not eighteen until the fifth of December. Then he will give her to Donald with half a million dollars, which Donald will invest in Macbeth's business, and so become his partner. The girl is lovely as an angel. I have a picture of her. Do you want to see it?"

"No."