“Ah, well,” I added, “I am sure you will give us a song to-night.”
“That will I, with the greatest of pleasure.”
“But dinner first,” cried Captain Reeves, laughing. “The mind, you know, takes its cue from the state of the body.”
And a most tasteful and delightful little dinner it was which was now placed on the captain’s hospitable board, and everybody, including even Mina, did ample justice to it.
I have always thought that the violin and the Spanish guitar were made for each other—made to be wedded to each other, as it were, in sweet accord. I could not help thinking so to-night, as the soft, delightful music—madly merry one minute, tender and plaintive next—filled all the room.
But the instruments were laid aside at last, and then, encouraged by a few questions put to him by Captain Reeves and Mina, Miguel entertained us with a delightful narrative of harvest life at “An Auld Fairm Toon.” That is the quaint title he gave it.
It was indeed a laughable and delightful yarn, and had I been able to take it down just as it fell from the young fellow’s lips, it should have been all in print somewhere ere now.
But at last Mina, showing some signs of fatigue, was advised to retire.
There was no sleepiness about any one else, not even about honest Dash, whose eyes were very open indeed.
Perhaps he was wondering what kind of sport he should have next day among the hills, and after the ptarmigan and grouse.