"Fergus does sometimes LOOK surly," said Ian, rising again, and going to her; "he has bad rheumatism, poor fellow! And then he can't speak a word of English, and is ashamed of it!"
"The man we saw spoke English very well. Is Fergus your brother's name?"
"No; my brother's name is Alister—that is Gaelic for Alexander."
"He was ploughing with two wild little oxen, and could hardly manage them."
"Then it must have been Alister—only, excuse me, he could manage them perfectly. Alister could break a pair of buffaloes."
"He seemed rather vexed, and I thought it might be that we made the creatures troublesome.—I do not mean he was rude—only a little rough to us."
Ian smiled, and waited for more.
"He did not like to be told he was hard on the animals. I only said the poor things did not know better!"
"Ah—I see!—He understands animals so well, he doesn't like to be meddled with in his management of them. I daresay he told you that, if they didn't know better, he had to teach them better! They are troublesome little wretches.—Yes, I confess he is a little touchy about animals!"
Somehow Christina felt herself rebuked, and did not like it. He had almost told her that, if she had quarrelled with his ploughman-brother, the fault must be hers!