"Well, I'm afraid there isn't much chance that you'll be gettin' her either," said Callum very seriously. "Man, she would be givin' you a fine black eye the last time you asked her."
Scotty turned away impatiently. The boys always seemed to get a great deal of fun out of Weaver Jimmie's tempestuous love-affair, but he found it very uninteresting. He slipped under the table, clambered upon the bench beside Hamish, and stuck his curly head between the book and the young man's face; for he had long ago discovered this to be the only effectual means of bringing Hamish back to actualities. Such a proceeding would not have been safe with Callum or Rory, but Hamish was always patient. "What ye readin', Hamish?" he inquired coaxingly.
"Jist a book," said Hamish dreamily. "Be careful of it now. It belongs to the Captain!"
"Captain Herbert? The Englishman Grandaddy hates?"
"Yes; whisht, will ye? I didn't get it from him, though. Kirsty John's mother had it, and lent it to me."
"Was you ever at the Captain's place?"
"Yes, once."
"Is it fearful grand?"
"Yes, I suppose so. But I would jist be at the back door. Take care, now, and let me read!"
"The back door!" Scotty's eyes ranged wonderingly round the walls. With the exception of the trap-door leading to the loft the house had but one opening. "Eh, the Captain's folks must be awful grand, Hamish, to be having two doors to their house."