“I’m thinkin’ it’s a fine drive ye’ll have had,” said Mr Mactavish, after having subjected Allister to long and intent scrutiny.
“Middling” was the laconic response.
“Ye’ll be new to yer wark, mebbe,” resumed Mactavish, addressing Benson.
“Not quite,” he replied; “I have spent the last three years teaching in Cape Town.”
“Ah, but that’s anither thing; ye’ll have lots to learn o’ oor methods here.”
“I believe I came rather to teach than to learn,” replied Benson, gently.
Three indignant pairs of eyes focussed themselves upon the speaker, who, however, looked blandly unconscious of giving offence. Mr Mactavish turned once more to Allister—“Ye’ll have some skill as a physeecian, I’m told.”
“It depends upon what’s wrang wi’ ye,” replied Allister, with imperturbability. “I can pull teeth fine, and I’ve learnt to shoe a horse.”
This seemed to strike Mr Mactavish with momentary helplessness. However, after a pause, he returned to the attack—
“I suppose ye found the roads awfu’; that’s ane o’ the things we’ve to put up wi’ here—havin’ oor bones mashed when we travel. But a sense o’ duty’s a graund thing to gie ye patience.”