"Surely Diarmid will do it. Where is he? Tell him to come up."
"In a minute, Miss Isla. But what I do want to know iss how it iss to be in Creagh now? For if Diarmid iss to stop, then I canna. I'm not fit to stand his impidence."
The idea of Diarmid's impudence so tickled Isla that she burst out laughing, which did not please Margaret.
"If it's me you're laughin' at, Miss Isla," she began in a highly-offended tone----
Then Isla turned about on her with a quick glance of disapproval.
"Is that a way, Margaret Maclaren, to speak to me this day of all days? If you and Diarmid cannot live peaceably together, then you had better both go. You are a silly woman. What does it matter who puts away Mr. Malcolm's things? Go away to your kitchen, and I'll do it myself. You ought to be ashamed of yourself at your age, behaving like a great baby."
Margaret did not take the rebuke in very good part. Old and faithful, she was likewise privileged; and undoubtedly all the Mackinnon servants had been more or less spoiled.
"It's the swearin', Miss Isla. I haf not been used to it, an' I will not stand it--not even from Maister Malcolm, an' Diarmid laughin' in the back, like, when I wass ordered to put away the things. Please to tell me who iss to wait on the Laird--iss it to be me or iss it to be Diarmid?"
"And, supposing it should be you, eh, Margaret?" asked Isla, and the smile did not leave her lips. "Go away down and see what there is in the larder, for we shall need something to eat a little later. And then come up and help me to clear this room. If Mr. Malcolm does not want it I'll take it myself, for it would be a shame to let it stand empty."
Margaret, a little ashamed perhaps and glad of the offered opportunity to recover herself, went out of the room.