Scottie rode into the yard with the horses careering before him as she got the things. “Anything more?” she asked. “Sugar?”
“No, I can do without. Flour, though—not too much. I’m travelling light—forced marches again, you see,” and a smile flickered on his lips.
She brought little calico bags of her uncle’s and put the things in. “You should have been a soldier’s daughter, Miss Ess,” he said. “Prompt, obedient, and unquestioning. I hardly thought a girl could fill the essentials so well.” He was eating as he spoke, and drinking eagerly at the tea.
Scottie tramped in. “I’ve saddled Vulcan,” he said. “He’s the best barrin’ yer own. An’ I’ve strapped a blanket an’ a billy on. Is there aught else?”
“Nothing,” said Steve. “Miss Ess has kindly seen to the rest. Unless—have you any money by you? Can you lend me any?”
Scottie went to a chest in the corner and pulled out a worn pocket book. He put a few notes on the table and some pieces of silver. “I’m sorry there’s no more in the house, Steve,” he said.
“I have a couple of sovereigns,” said Ess, quickly. “Might I lend you those?”
“No, no,” said Steve, hastily, then more slowly, “But I don’t know. Yes, I think I will, and thank you.”
“I’ve a few pounds in the bank, Steve,” said Scottie. “I’ll gie ye a blank cheque if ye’re going by the township again.”
Steve shook his head. “I’ll not be going by the township just yet a bit,” he said.