Then he surveyed the rest of us in turn with his restless eyes, until his look fell upon me. He must have marked something about my appearance distinct from the others, for he bowed and addressed me politely.
"You are not one of these fellows, I think. May I ask the favour of your name? I have been long absent from this country and have forgot faces."
"You are welcome to it," said I. "They call me John Burnet—of Barns," I added, for the first time using my new-found title.
He crossed to my side in an instant and held out his hand. "Your hand, Master Burnet. You and I should be well known to each other, for we shall be near neighbours. You may have heard of Michael Veitch of Dawyck, him that was soldiering abroad. I am that same, returned like the prodigal from far countries."
Now I knew where I had seen the face before. It was but a coarse and manly counterpart of Marjory's, though I fancied that hers was still the braver and stronger, if all were told.
"I have often heard of you," I said, "and I am glad to be the first to bid you welcome to your own countryside. These are some men of the town, honest fellows, who come here for their evening ale."
"Your health, gentlemen," he cried, bowing to the company. "Landlord, bring ale and a bottle of your best Burgundy till I pledge these honest fellows."
"Eh, sirs," I heard Peter Crustcrackit mutter under his breath, "sic an invasion o' gentles. The Northgate o' Peebles micht be the High Street o' Embro', for a' the braw folk that are coming tae't. I maun think aboot shifting my shop."
It would be well on for eight o'clock ere Master Veitch and I left the Pegasus to ride homeward. The night was quieter and milder, and overhead a patch of clear sky showed the stars. He had with him two serving-men who carried his belongings, but they rode some little distance behind. He was full of questions about Dawyck and his kinsfolk there and the countryside around; so I must needs tell him something of what had passed between Marjory and myself. He seemed not ill-pleased. "What," he cried, "little Marjory, who was scarce higher than my knee when I left! To think that she should have grown into a woman already! And you say she is pretty?"
Which question gave me much opportunity for such talk as one must use when he feels the littleness of words.