“Oh, then you do take lunch?” said Max, with a look of relief.
“Yes, always,” said Kenneth, showing his white teeth. “I’m taking it now—inside. And old Grant’s always grumbling to me about having so much to do now father does not keep any other men-servants indoors. Only two meals a day to see to, and we very seldom have any company now.”
“I hope Mr Blande is making a good breakfast, Kenneth,” said The Mackhai, laying down his newspaper.
“No, father, not half a one.”
“Oh, thank you, I am indeed.”
“I hope Mr Blande will,” said The Mackhai stiffly. “Pray do not let him think we are wanting in hospitality at Dunroe.”
“I’ll take care of him, father.”
“Quite right, Ken. What are you going to do to-day?”
“Take him up to the Black Pools and try for a salmon, and go afterwards with the guns across the moor up Glen Doy, and then right up the Ten after a hare or two. After that we could take the boat, and—”
“I think your programme is long enough for to-day, Ken,” said The Mackhai dryly. “You will excuse me, Mr Blande,” he continued, with formal politeness; “I have some letters to write.”