“Hame? An' whaur's that?” he inquired, manifesting a grudging interest.
“Where? Where but in the best of all lands, in Scotland,” said Moira. “Near Braemar.”
“Braemar?”
“Aye, Braemar. I have only come four days ago.”
“Aye, an' did ye say, lassie!” said Andy, with a faint accession of interest. “It's a bonny country ye've left behind, and far enough frae here.”
“Far indeed,” said Moira, letting her shining brown eyes rest upon his face. “And it is myself that knows it. But when the fire burns yonder,” she added, pointing to the fireplace, “I will be seeing the hills and the glens and the moors.”
“'Deed, then, lassie,” said Andy in a low hurried voice, moving toward the door, “A'm gled that Smith buddie gar't me build it.”
“Wait, Mr. Hepburn,” said Moira, shyly holding out her hand, “don't you think that Scotties in this far land should be friends?”
“An' prood I'd be, Miss Cameron,” replied Andy, and, seizing her hand, he gave it a violent shake, flung it from him and fled through the door.
“He's a cure, now, isn't he!” said Dent.