“Will there be anything wrong, sir?” said the tall keeper, whose keen gray eyes had been fixed on his master’s face.
The sound of Duncan’s voice startled and recalled Mr. Mackenzie, who immediately turned, and said lightly, “Wrong? What wass you thinking would be wrong? Oh, there is nothing wrong, whatever. But Mairi, she will be greatly surprised, and she is going to write no letters until she comes back to tell you what she has seen; that is the message there will be for Scarlett—she is very well.”
Duncan picked up the other letters and newspapers.
“You may tek them to the house, Duncan,” said Mr. Mackenzie; and then he added carelessly, “Did you hear when the steamer was thinking of leaving Stornoway this night?”
“They were saying it would be seven o’clock or six, as there was a great deal of cargo to get on her.”
“Six o’clock? I am thinking, Duncan, I would like to go with her as far as Oban or Glasgow. Oh, yes, I will go with her as far as Glasgow. Be sharp, Duncan, and bring in the boat.”
The keeper stared, fearing his master had gone mad. “You wass going with her this ferry night?”
“Yes. Be sharp, Duncan,” said Mackenzie, doing his best to conceal his impatience and determination under a careless air.
“But, sir, you canna do it,” said Duncan, peevishly. “You hef no things looked out to go. And by the time we would get to Callernish, it was a ferry hard drive, there will be to get to Stornoway by six o’clock; and there is the mare, sir, she will hef lost a shoe—”
Mr. Mackenzie’s diplomacy gave way. He turned upon his keeper with a sudden fierceness and with a stamp of his foot; “—— —— you, Duncan MacDonald! is it you or me that is the master? I will go to Stornoway this ferry moment if I hef to buy twenty horses!” And there was a light under the shaggy eyebrows that warned Duncan to have done with his remonstrances.