“Well, I’ve been up for hours. I’m as hungry as a Caithness Highlander. And I’ve got an idea.”
“I thought there was something in the wind.”
“Guess.”
“Guess, indeed! Goodness forbid I should try. But I say, brother,” continued Uncle Ramsay, laughing, “couldn’t you manage to fall asleep somewhere out of doors, like the man in the story, and wake up and find yourself a king? My stars, wouldn’t we have reforms as long as your reign lasted! The breakfast, Mary? Ah, that’s the style!”
“You won’t be serious and listen, I suppose, Ramsay.”
“Oh, yes; I will.”
“Well, the Americans—”
“The Americans again; but go on.”
“The Americans, in some parts where I’ve been, wouldn’t lose a straw in a bad season. It is all done by means of great fanners and heated air, you know. Now, I’m going to show these honest Northumbrian farmers a thing or two. I—”
“I say, brother, hadn’t you better trust to Providence, and wait for a fair wind?”