"Will you be making any changes," asked Traquair, "when you come into your own?"
McTavish looked up with a smile and handed his open cigarette case to the older man.
"Mr. Traquair," he said, "I'm young and a stranger. I wish you could find it in your heart to be an uncle to me."
Traquair accepted a cigarette and sat down, first assuring himself that the stone steps were dry.
"If I were your nephew," said McTavish, "and came to you all out of breath, and told you that I wished to marry Miss McTavish's housekeeper, what would you say?"
"I would say," said Traquair, "that she was the daughter of a grand family that had fallen from their high estate. I would say, 'Charge, nephew, charge!'"
"Do you mean it!" exclaimed McTavish.
"There's no more lovely lass in the United Kingdom," said Traquair, "than Miss—Miss—"
"MacNish," McTavish helped him; "and she would be mistress where she had been servant. That's a curious twist of fate."
"You have made up your mind, then," said Traquair, "to claim your own?"