“Gently with the butter, my boy. There is such a thing as bile.”
“Is there, father?” said Kenneth, who was spreading the rich yellow churning a full quarter of an inch thick.
“Is there, sir! Yes, there is. As I know to my cost. Ah!” he added, with a sigh, and his face wrinkled and made him look ten years older; “but there was a time when I did not know the meaning of the word!”
“Oh, I say, father,” cried Kenneth merrily, “don’t! You’re always pretending to be old, and yet you can walk me down stalking, and Long Shon says you can make him sore-footed any day.”
“Nonsense! nonsense!” said The Mackhai, smiling.
“Oh, but you can, father!” said Kenneth, with his mouth full. “And see how you ran with that salmon yesterday, all among the stones.”
“Ah, yes! I manage to hold my own; but I hope you’ll husband your strength better than I did, my boy,” said The Mackhai, with a sigh.
“I only hope I shall grow into such a fine man!” cried Kenneth, with his face lighting up, as he gazed proudly at his father. “Why, Donald says—”
“Tut, tut, tut! Silence, you miserable young flatterer! Do you want to make your father conceited? There, that will do.”
“Coming fishing to-day, father?”