"As it so happens, I am booked for Inverness on a date in that month."
Wat stared at me. "Do you know," he said, "'tis a far cry to Loch Awe, and Inverness is at the other side of Loch Awe? Thither and back from where we stand is eleven hundred and ninety miles."
I was surprised; I had not entered into these details; but I held my peace.
"Have you got many engagements?"
"Yes; the first was from Dollar, which I accept as a good omen; and, curiously enough, 'tis not in the United States."
"No," said Wat; "'tis between Edinburgh and Stirling. What fee do they tender you there?"
I told him.
"Ahem!" he continued, fondling his chin as he spoke. "If you don't cumber yourself with luggage—a courier-bag will do—and if you bus it to King's Cross, and stop at a temperance hotel in 'Auld Reekie,' and give servants no tips, and condescend to all invitations, with a wise economy, I take it, you won't drop more than five-and-twenty shillings on that transaction."
"How! What do you mean? You surely are not serious?"
"Why, the railway return fare to Edinburgh alone is five-pun-nine-and-six; and that will burn a hole in your fee."