And this was Shufflin’ Sandie’s breakfast, and when he had finished all save the bit he always left for Collie and the cat, he gave a sigh of contentment, and lit his pipe.
And now the lasses began their banter again.
“That’s the stuff to make a man of you,” said Fanny.
“Make a man of an ill-shapen dwarf like him,” said Maggie Reid. “Well! well! well!”
“Hush, Mag,” cried Fanny, “hush! God could have made you just as misshapen as poor Sandie.”
But Sandie took no heed. He was thinking. Soon he arose, and before Fanny could help herself, he had kissed her. Fanny threw the dish-cloth after him, but the laugh was all against her.
The Laird would be downstairs now, so Sandie went quietly to the breakfast-room door and tapped.
“Come in, Sandie,” cried the Laird. “I know it is you.”
The Laird had a good Scotch breakfast before him. Porridge, fresh herrings and mashed potatoes, with ducks’ eggs to follow and marmalade to finish off with.
“Will you have a thistle, Sandie?”