“Oh!” cried McBain, “your somewhat antiquated cousin; I had forgotten all about her.”
“I hadn’t,” said Ralph.
“Never mind,” said Rory, “something may turn up, and even if the worst comes to the worst, I’ll be at the wedding, and play the Dead March in Saul.”
“Ah!” said Ralph, “it is just as well for you that you moved out of my reach, you saucy boy?”
“There are two thousand pounds to a share,” continued McBain, “if we sell our furs and oils only indifferently well.”
“And sure,” said Rory, “even that is better than a stone behind the ear. And look at all the fun we have had, and all the adventures; troth, we’ll have stories to tell all our lives, if we never go to sea any more, and live till we’re as old as the big hill o’ Howth.”
“But I think, you know, boys,” McBain went on, “we have gained a deal more than the simple pecuniary value of what lies in our tanks and lockers. Increased health and strength, for instance.”
“Ah?” added Allan, “strength of mind as well as body, for, positively, before I left Glentroom, I did little else but mope—now, I think I won’t do anything of the kind again. With the little capital I have obtained, I will begin and cultivate my glen—it is worth more than rabbits’ food.”
“Yes,” said McBain, “there is gold in the glen.”
“Speaking figuratively, yes.”