"Now look here, Mephistopheles," said Mary, seriously. "I could murder you, without the least trouble. I am stronger than you; I could kill you, and hide you in a hole in the rocks, and you'd never be heard of again. So you'd better have a little discretion in flouting at my schemes. Ah, if you only knew! Why, listen to this, now: are you aware that there is a far greater demand for the Harris homespun cloth than the people can supply? I discovered that at Inverness. I was told that half the home-spun sold in London is imitation, made in Manchester. Well, I propose to let them have the real homespun—yes, and plenty of it! And more than that; I'm going to have homespun druggets, and homespun plaids; and blankets, and shawls, and patch-work quilts; and all the carding and spinning and weaving, and all the knitting of the stockings, to be done by my own people. And I'll have a sale-room in London; and advertise in the papers—that they're the real things, and not sham at all; and if I have any friends in the South, well, let them show themselves my friends by coming forward and helping us! No charity—far from it; they get value, and more than value, for their money; why, where is there any such stuff as homespun for gentlemen's shooting costumes, or for ladies ulsters; and where can you get such warmth in winter from any other kind of stockings? I don't like to see so many women working in the fields—especially the old women—and carrying those heavy creels of seaweed; I'm going to get them lighter work—that will pay them better; and when their sons or husbands are away at the East Coast fishing, they will be earning almost as much at home. What do you think of this now? For a good web of homespun I can get 5*s.* a yard from the clothiers themselves; and they will do very well when they get 1*s.* or 1*s.* 6*d.* a yard profit; but when I sell in my own store at 6*s.* 6*d.* a yard, then that is all the more coming back to us here at home. Oh, I tell you, you will soon hear plenty of spinning-wheels going, and shuttles clacking, at Lochgarra!"
It was a pretty enthusiasm; and Käthchen did not like to say anything. Indeed it was Mary herself who paused in this dithyrambic forecast. She had chanced to look at the gathering skies overhead.
"Käthchen," said she, "it was a good thing we brought our waterproofs."
Kate Glendinning followed the direction of her glance.
"Yes," she answered, "and I think we'd better be getting on."
Then here was the business of getting over the stream. Mary went down to the edge of the river; pulled off her shoes and stockings covertly (covertly, in this solitude, where there was not even a hawk poised on wing!) and then put one foot cautiously into the swift-running water. The consequence was a shrill shriek.
"No," she said, "I can't do it. It's like ice, Käthchen! I'm going to put my shoes and stockings on again; and find some stones or rocks somewhere that I can get across."
"You'll fall in, then," said the matter-of-fact Käthchen, who was by this time over the ankles, and making good progress—with her teeth clenched.
But Mary did not fall in. She sought out shallows; and made zig-zag experiments with the shingle and with bigger stones; and if she did get her feet wet before reaching the other side, it was gradually. Very soon it was not of wet feet they were thinking.
For when they ascended the opposite hill—entering upon a still wilder region than any they had as yet traversed—they became aware that all the world had grown much darker; and when at length they beheld the far line of the sea, it was of a curiously livid, or leaden, hue. The wind was blowing hard up on these heights; now and again there was a sting of moisture in it—the flying precursor of the rain. But the most ominous thing that met their gaze was a series of sickly-looking, formless clouds that seemed rising all along the western horizon; while the sea underneath was growing unnaturally black. Rising and spreading those clouds were, and swiftly; with a strange and alarming appearance—as if the earth were about to be overwhelmed: they looked close and near, moreover, though necessarily they must have been miles away. At first the two girls did not mind very much; all their strength was needed to withstand the buffetings of the wind; indeed, there was a kind of joyance in driving forward against the ever-increasing gale, though it told on their panting chests. They had to shout to each other, if they wished to be heard.