"You are reckoning without your host, Ian. Donald has not one intention about St. Andrews."
"Nevertheless, he is going to St. Andrews."
"Just so—according to Ian Macrae. Donald Macrae is to hear from."
"Every Scotchman, Jessy, considers it a great privilege to go to St. Andrews. St. Andrew was a good and a great man."
"He was a very prudent, forecasting Saint—the only one of the Disciples who, at the great Preaching, knew where the bread and the fishes were. But, though I will not preach for your Saint, I will say nothing against him. If he can get Donald he may have him. But we will have our meal at six o'clock, Ian, and I hope there will be only good words with it to-night. It would be real unlucky to have a quarrel over our first meal."
Certainly Mrs. Caird did all she could to prevent it. It was a pleasure to go into the firelit, gaslit room, and see the pretty plenteous table; and to hear the pleasant laughter of Donald and Marion, who were standing together on the hearthrug. Dr. Macrae took in the charming picture at a glance, but his attention was specially drawn to Donald. His holiday had improved him. He was so manly and so handsome that his father quite involuntarily addressed him as sir. "Well, sir," he said, "I hope you have had a good holiday."
"A grand one! I do not see how I could have had a better one in every way."
"That is good. Your aunt is waiting. Let us sit down. Where did you go first?"
"Lord Cramer was with me and we went first to Skye, and spent nearly four days at Dunvegan Castle with Macleod of Macleod. He remembered my grandfather and spoke bravely of him, and, if I had not been a Scotchman to the last drop of my blood, Dunvegan would have made me one."
"It is the oldest inhabited castle in Scotland," said Dr. Macrae, "and in my grandfather's day it was only accessible from the sea by a boat and a subterranean staircase."