Lady Macphail.
[Rapturously, with her hand upraised.] Now let the worn banner of the Macphail be run up on the crumbling tower of Castle Ballocheevin!
Dowager.
Certainly—by all means.
Lady Macphail.
Now let the roar of the pipes startle the eaglets on the summit of black Ben-Muchty!
Dowager.
I hope such arrangements will be made.
Lady Macphail.
Let the shriek of the wild birds resound on the shores of Loch-na-Doich!