Max stared.
“But you can’t get a cab.”
“Oh yes, you can—in Edinburgh and Glasgow.”
“Then you keep a carriage?”
“Yes; you came in it—the boat,” said Kenneth, laughing. “We used to have a large yacht, but father gave it up last year. He said he couldn’t afford it now on account of the confounded lawyers.”
Max winced a little, and then said, with quiet dignity,—
“My father is a lawyer.”
“Is he? Beg pardon, then. But your father isn’t one of the confounded lawyers, or else you wouldn’t be here.”
Kenneth laughed, and Max seemed more thoughtful.
“S’pose you think we’re rather rough down here; but this is the Highlands. You’ll soon get used to us. There’s no carriage, but we can give you a mount on a capital pony. Walter Scott would do for you.”