He had just come into the property from his uncle, and wanted nothing but a wife to make Garrion complete. He was a finely-built, good-looking young fellow, with an honest, kindly face, with not a very high type of intellect perhaps, but with sufficient common sense and sound judgment to fill admirably the position to which he had been called.
He and his sister Kitty, being orphans, had been brought up by their uncle at Garrion, and had known no other home. Kitty and Isla were friends, of course, though there was not so very much in common between that dashing, high-spirited, happy-go-lucky girl and the more staid and placid Isla.
"How's Kitty? We haven't seen her for a long time," she said as they began to pace to and fro on the platform--objects of much interest of a significant kind to those who knew them.
"Kitty's alone, but when are you coming to Garrion? Aunt Betty is always asking why you don't come."
"That's easily answered. It's five miles to Garrion, and I haven't either a horse or a bicycle; but tell Lady Betty I'll walk over one of these days."
"You needn't do that, Isla--and very well you know it. All you have to do is to say the word, and the best bit of horse-flesh in Garrion stables is at your command."
"I haven't much time," she said rather quickly. "Father seems to need me more of late, and----"
She hesitated, and then came to a stop, deciding that she would not just yet mention a word about Malcolm's coming home. It was not that she could not trust Neil Drummond, but the shame of that home-coming held her back from speaking of it even to a friend of such long standing.
"It is very unusual for you to go to Glasgow, isn't it?" said Neil, looking down with a slightly rueful expression at the bonnie, winsome face by his side.
"It is very unusual. Last night father had a letter from Mr. Cattanach, which we found rather difficult to answer, so I came to the conclusion that it might save further complications if I went up and had a talk with him about it."