"Nay, father, he's no that yet," interposed Jessie, "for Thora is aye before him."
"Thora can read better than I can," I said, "and she kens mair geography. She's better at the Latin, too; but the dominie says I'm the best at history, and writin', and accounts."
"Ye'll no need very muckle Latin to be a pilot, however," said my father. "But it's a pity ye're not better at the geography. How many islands have we in Orkney? Can you tell me that?"
"Seventy-two--twenty-eight islands and forty-four holms."
"And can ye name them all, the twenty-eight islands?"
"Yes, the dominie taught us them last Martinmas;" and I proceeded to name them, from the North Ronaldsay down to the Muckle Skerry of Pentland.
"Very good!" said my father; "and d'ye ken ony thing about the sounds? Where's the Sound o' Rapness?"
"There's a puzzle for ye, Hal," said my mother.
"Ah! I warrant the laddie kens it," said Mansie.
"Is it not between Westray and Fara?" I ventured doubtfully.