‘I’ll away down an’ see,’ said the man, disappearing.
‘Who is that?’ asked Gilbert, to whom the loss of a dinner seemed less extraordinary than the possession of such a servant.
‘His name is Mungo Macquean. He has had charge of the house for a great part of the time that it has stood empty. He is a good creature, Mr. Speid, though uncouth—very uncouth.’
In a few minutes the door opened again to admit Macquean’s head.
‘There’s a chicken she’ll roast to ye, an’ there’s brose. An’ a’m to tell her, are ye for pancakes?’
‘Oh, certainly,’ said Gilbert. ‘Mr. Barclay, when shall it be?’
‘The sooner the better, I think,’ said the other hopefully.
‘Then we will dine at once,’ said Gilbert.
Macquean’s mouth widened and he stared at his master.
‘You’ll get it at five,’ he said, as he withdrew his head.