"I'm hungry enough to eat anything;—not but what I had a first-rate luncheon. What have you done all day?"
"Stone and Toddy," said Herriot.
"Stick to that. If anything can pull you through, Stone and Toddy will. I lived upon them for two years."
"Stone and Toddy,—with a little tobacco, have been all my comfort. I began, however, by sleeping for a few hours. Then I went upon the mountains."
"Did you take a gun?"
"I took it out of the case, but it didn't come right, and so I left it. A man came to me and said he was the keeper."
"He'd have put the gun right for you."
"I was too bashful for that. I persuaded him that I wanted to go out alone and see what birds there were, and at last I induced him to stay here with the old woman. He's to be at the Cottage at nine to-morrow. I hope that is all right."
In the evening, as they smoked and drank whiskey and water,—probably supposing that to be correct in Ayrshire,—they were led on by the combined warmth of the spirit, the tobacco, and their friendship, to talk about women. Frank, some month or six weeks since, in a moment of soft confidence, had told his friend of his engagement with Lucy Morris. Of Lizzie Eustace he had spoken only as of a cousin whose interests were dear to him. Her engagement with Lord Fawn was known to all London, and was, therefore, known to Arthur Herriot. Some distant rumour, however, had reached him that the course of true-love was not running quite smooth, and therefore on that subject he would not speak, at any rate till Greystock should first mention it. "How odd it is to find two women living all alone in a great house like that," Frank had said.
"Because so few women have the means to live in large houses, unless they live with fathers or husbands."