"I'm your man!" said he. "What can I do for you?"
"I'll come down again in half an hour," said she. "And then I want you to help me to carry something."
She gave him a swift bewitching smile that left him entirely helpless, and hurried from the room.
Mr Craigie looked at the clock and decided that he would get his stroll into the half-hour, so he took his stick and sauntered down the drive. On one side of this drive was a line of huddled wind-bent trees, and at the end was a gate opening on the highroad, with the sea close at hand. Just as he got to the gate a stranger appeared upon the road, walking very slowly, and up to that moment concealed by the trees. He was a clergyman, tall, clean-shaved, and with what the laird afterwards described as a "hawky kind of look."
There was no haughtiness whatever about the laird of Breck. He accosted every one he met, and always in the friendliest way.
"A fine day!" said he heartily. "Grand weather for the crops, if we could just get a wee bit more of rain soon."
The clergyman stopped.
"Yes, sir," said he, "it is fine weather."
His manner was polite, but not very hearty, the laird thought. However, he was not easily damped, and proceeded to contribute several more observations, chiefly regarding the weather prospects, and tending to become rapidly humorous. And then he remembered his appointment in the smoking-room.
"Well," said he, "good day to you! I must be moving, I'm afraid."