"Good evening to you, Martha," said he in Gaelic, "and I hope you are well."
"Indeed I am all the better for seeing you back, sir," replied the old woman, with many smiles. "The house is no house at all when you are away."
She followed him obsequiously into the narrow hall. He only glanced at the newspapers and letters on the table. But there was something else there—a brace of grouse.
"Will I cook one of the birds for Mr. Ross's dinner?" she asked, her Highland politeness causing her to address him in the third person.
A quick frown came over his face.
"Who brought these here?" he demanded.
"Oh, well—they were left," said old Martha, evasively.
"Yes, yes, left; but who left them?" he asked again.
"Oh, well; maybe it was the Lochgarra keepers," said she.
"The keepers? Nonsense!" he said angrily. "Do you tell me the keepers would shoot grouse at this time of the year, when the birds have paired, and soon will be nesting? It was Gillie Ciotach,[#] I'll be bound. Now you will tell the Gillie Ciotach, Martha, that if he does not stop his tricks I will have him sent across the land to go before the Sheriff at Dingwall; and how will he like that?"