“Oh!” said Max, as he stared at a rough, whitewashed hovel, thatched, and covered with hazel rods tied down to keep the thatch from blowing off.
“There won’t be time to-night after dinner, but I’ll take you down to Shon to-morrow. We always call him Long Shon because he’s so little, and we pretend he’s so fond of whisky. Scood’s a head taller than his father.”
“It will be all most interesting, I’m sure,” said Max, whose feet felt very wet and uncomfortable.
“I’ll take you to see Tavish too,” continued Kenneth, with a half-laugh at his companion’s didactic form of speech. “Tavish is our forester.”
“Forester?”
“Yes; and then I must introduce you to Donald Dhu.”
“Is he a Scottish chief?”
“Well,” said Kenneth, with a half laugh, “I daresay he thinks so. Like pipes?”
“Pipes? No, I never tried them. I once had a cigarette, but I didn’t like it.”
“Oh, I say, you are comic!” said Kenneth, laughing heartily, and then restraining himself. “I meant the bagpipes. Donald is our piper.”