"I could spare you, Frank: there's nothing particular on hand that I cannot attend to myself for that short time. But——"
"Thank you, Uncle Hugh," interrupted Frank, impetuously. "Then suppose I start to-morrow morning?"
"But—I was about to inquire—what is it that has put all this into your head so suddenly?"
Frank's eager eyes, raised to the doctor's face, fell at the question. A half-conscious smile parted his lips.
"There's no harm, sir, in trying to plan out one's future."
"None in the world, Frank. I only ask the reason for your setting about it in this—as it seems to me—sudden manner."
"Well—you know, Uncle Hugh—I—I may be marrying some time."
"And you have been fixing on the lady, I see, Frank!"
A broad smile now shone upon Frank's face. He was sending the paper-knife round in circles on the table, with rather an unnecessary noise. Dr. Raynor's thoughts were going hither and thither; he could not recall any individual in the neighbourhood of Trennach likely to be honoured by Frank's choice. In an instant an idea flashed over him—an idea that he did not like.
"Frank! can it be that you are thinking of one of the Miss St. Clares?"