“Oh, you’ll have to go,” said Kenneth, as the old man kept on waving his hand imperiously. “Won’t he, Scood?”
“Ou ay, she’ll have to go and hear ta pipes.”
As if angered at the invitation not being accepted, old Donald took a couple of strides forward into the kitchen.
This was too much for Sneeshing, who leaped up on to his four short legs, barked furiously, and then, overcome by recollections of the last air he had heard, he threw up his head so as to straighten his throat, and gave forth the most miserable howl a dog could utter.
Old Donald shouted something in Gaelic, and made for the dog, which began to bark and snap at him, and this roused Dirk and Bruce to take part with him in baying at the old piper, who stopped short, as if startled at the array of teeth.
The noise was so great that Grant the butler came hurrying in.
“Turn those dogs oot!” he cried. “You, Tonal’, what do you want?”
“Ta Southron chiel’,” said the old man mysteriously.
“She lo’es ta pipes, and she’ll play him ta Mackhai’s Mairch.”
Turning to Max, he waved him toward the door.