Mr. Kirkwood brought with him some champagne of a special vintage, it being the only stimulant Colonel Gordon was allowed to take, and sent it quietly by Dan to Bell. She, busy with her own special work, looked at the bottles, and as she had not had champagne in hand before, she said to Dan:
“Take that gold off the cork an’ that string, an’ I’ll draw’t, an’ pit it into a crystal bottle to be ready.”
Alas! the cork flew into Bell’s face, half the wine was spilt, and she said sharply:
“Let them draw the next that likes, I’ll no’ fash wi’t.” Thereafter Mr. Kirkwood became his own butler for the day.
He was carried away by the cockie-leekie to which, at his own request, he was helped three times. Everything else, especially the pancakes, increased his delight. The others around the table enjoyed his immense satisfaction as much as they did the dinner, which, at least in Gordie’s case, is saying a very great deal.
THE CORRIDORS OF TIME.
Mr. Kirkwood walked alongside of Colonel Gordon’s chair as they went homewards,—Dan, of course, acting as propeller. When they had reached a high part of the road, they halted to enjoy the scene and the cool evening air. Colonel Gordon looked at Dan, who was wiping his brow, and observing a scar on his temples, he said:
“I’ve surely seen you long ago; it’s like a dream to me, but was it not you that brought me a letter from my brother, many, many years since, when I was sailing for India? You had a patch over your brow, and you told me you had had your eye hurt.”
Dan started and said: “Please, sir, are you a brother of the Duke o’ Gordon’s,—toots, I beg your pardon,—Kenneth Gordon’s?”
“I am,” said the Colonel. “I see now it was you that brought the letter. I was sure I knew you. Poor Kenneth, he was a daring fellow. Did you know him well?”