“Never saw the colour of his money yet,” said Ambrose, who seemed extremely amused.
“I wish you never may,” quoth my aunt. “But I sadly fear you are going the way to do it.”
The more Ambrose laughed, the graver my Aunt Kezia seemed to grow. Before we had finished breakfast, Angus came languidly into the room.
“What ails you, old comrade?” said Ambrose; and Flora’s eyes looked up with the same question, but I think there were tears on the brown velvet.
“Oh, my head aches conf— I mean—abominably,” said Angus, flushing.
“Take a hair of the dog that bit you,” suggested Ambrose; “unless you think humble pie will agree with you better. I fancy Miss Drummond would rather help you to that last.”
I saw a flash in Mr Keith’s eyes, which gave me the idea that he might not be a pleasant person to meet alone in a glen at midnight, if he had no scruples as to what he did.
“You hold your tongue!” growled Angus.
“By all means, if you prefer it,” said Ambrose, lightly.
One after another, the gentlemen strolled in,—all but two who stayed in bed till afternoon, and of these Mr Catterall was one. Among the last to appear was Mr Bagnall; but he looked quite fresh and gay when he came, like Ambrose.