“Good Heavens, sir,” cried Frank Lavender, “you don’t mean to say you bought that brooch for your daughter?”
“And why not?” said the King of Borva, in great surprise.
The young man perceived his mistake, grew considerably confused, and only said: “Well, I should have thought that—that some small piece of gold jewelry, now, would be better suited for a young lady.”
Mackenzie smiled shrewdly: “I had something to go on. It was Sheila herself was in Stornoway three weeks ago, and she was wanting to buy a brooch for a young girl who had come down to us from Suainabost, and is very useful in the kitchen, and it wass a brooch, just like this one, she gave to her.”
“Yes, to a kitchen-maid,” said the young man, meekly.
“But Mairi is Sheila’s cousin,” said Mackenzie, with continued surprise.
“Lavender does not understand Highland ways yet, Mr. Mackenzie,” said Ingram, from behind. “You know we, in the South, have different fashions. Our servants are nearly always strangers to us—not relations and companions.”
“Oh, I hef peen in London myself,” said Mackenzie, in somewhat of an injured tone; and then he added, with a touch of satisfaction: “and I hef been in Paris, too.”
“And Miss Sheila, has she been in London?” asked Lavender, feigning ignorance.
“She has never been out of the Lewis.”