"They have gone to the South of France."
"Oh!" said Kitty, and her piquant face fell. "I don't call that fair of Aunt Betty. She might have taken me."
"If you're a good girl and don't talk too much between now and Christmas," said Neil provokingly, "I'll take you myself to be there in time for Christmas."
Kitty danced in ecstasy.
"Oh, I shall be glad. It's going to be a frightfully dismal Christmas here this year, and nobody is going to do any entertaining. The Rosmeads are all down in the mouth because their brother can't get away for Christmas, and now it may be Easter, or even later, before they see him. Bridge-building seems to be a very unsatisfactory business, though you make so much money at it. Peter Rosmead has to work like a navvy. He goes down into caissons--and things in diver's clothes to the bottom of the river. That's where the difficulty is. Things are always happening--silting, and queer things like that. Then the work has to be done all over again. He seems annoyed about it, but he'll keep on at it. He hasn't got that square jaw for nothing," cried Kitty breathlessly. "Well, tell me all about Isla Mackinnon. What has she been doing all this time?"
"Nothing particular. There isn't any romance or tragedy--or anything. She was simply living with an old servant of Achree and getting very sick of it. She would have come home soon, anyway."
"Did she seem glad to see you?"
"Isla doesn't say much at any time. But, yes--I think she was glad. Have you seen anything of Mackinnon at Achree, Kitty?"
"Why, yes. I've seen him every day. He spends the most of his time there, and I think it's going to be a match between him and Vivien."
The colour rose a little in Drummond's cheeks.