Donald Cameron moved restively.
"It's from his mother he's taken his liking for clacking words, then," he said.
She fell back from him with a little desperate gesture that she had made so little headway against the stone-wall of his mind.
"Will you not go after him to Wirreeford and get him to come home again?" she asked pitifully. "He is a clever lad. He'll be a credit and joy to us yet, if you'll only give him his head for a bit, Donald. This at McNab's doesn't mean anything; it's only to put you right with the people here, really—and because he's troubled in his mind about something else!"
"What do you mean?"
His eyebrows twitched, his sharp eyes settled on her.
"There's a girl on his mind," she replied hesitatingly.
"Jess Ross?" he asked. "I'd fixed in my mind for him to marry her."
"Well," there was the glimmer of a smile in her eyes. "It's not Jessie that Davey's got fixed in his mind to marry, so perhaps it's just as well you should be away from each other for a while."
"One of the Wirree girls—lag's daughters, every one of them!"