“I am afraid I've dispossessed Mr.—Mr.—Kilcraithie rather prematurely,” said the consul lightly.
To his infinite surprise the girl answered with grim decision, “Nane too soon.”
The consul stared. “I mean,” he explained, “that I found him hesitating here in the passage, looking for his room.”
“Ay, he's always hoaverin' and glowerin' in the passages—but it's no' for his ROOM! And it's a deesgrace to decent Christian folk his carryin' on wi' married weemen—mebbee they're nae better than he!”
“That will do,” said the consul curtly. He had no desire to encourage a repetition of the railway porter's freedom.
“Ye'll no fash yoursel' aboot HIM,” continued the girl, without heeding the rebuff. “It's no' the meestreess' wish that he's keepit here in the wing reserved for married folk, and she's no' sorry for the excuse to pit ye in his place. Ye'll be married yoursel', I'm hearin'. But, I ken ye's nae mair to be lippened tae for THAT.”
This was too much for the consul's gravity. “I'm afraid,” he said with diplomatic gayety, “that although I am married, as I haven't my wife with me, I've no right to this superior accommodation and comfort. But you can assure your mistress that I'll try to deserve them.”
“Ay,” said the girl, but with no great confidence in her voice as she grimly quitted the room.
“When our foot's upon our native heath, whether our name's Macgregor or Kilcraithie, it would seem that we must tread warily,” mused the consul as he began to dress. “But I'm glad she didn't see that rose, or MY reputation would have been ruined.” Here another knock at the door arrested him. He opened it impatiently to a tall gillie, who instantly strode into the room. There was such another suggestion of Kilcraithie in the man and his manner that the consul instantly divined that he was Kilcraithie's servant.
“I'll be takin' some bit things that yon Whistlecrankie left,” said the gillie gravely, with a stolid glance around the room.