"But you must remember," said Käthchen, "the young master was a little boy of ten when Mrs. Armour left; and little boys of ten haven't had time to develop into dangerous criminals."
"Dangerous criminal?" said Mary, rather sharply; "that is hardly the—the proper phrase to use—with regard to—to a stranger. However, it is not of much consequence. Käthchen, are you going to drive with me to Cruagan to get that sheriff's officer and his men sent back?"
"Yes, certainly," said Käthchen, in her usual business-like fashion, "as soon as we have had lunch. And remember, Mamie, it wasn't I who forgot to ask him to stay."
Luncheon did not detain them long, and immediately thereafter they got into the waggonette that was waiting for them, and drove off. But it was not of the eviction and the possibility of another riot that Mary was mostly thinking; something very different was weighing, and weighing heavily, on her mind. They drove through the village in silence; they crossed the bridge; and they had begun the ascent of the steep hill before she spoke.
"The more I consider it," she said, "the more ashamed I am."
"Consider what?" said Käthchen.
"Why, neglecting to ask him to stay to lunch," she made answer—for this was what she had been brooding over.
"Why should you worry about such a trifle!" Käthchen protested.
"It isn't a trifle—in a Highlander's estimation, as you know well enough. They pride themselves on their hospitality; and they judge others by their own standards; so that I cannot but keep wondering what he must be thinking of me at this moment. Remember, Käthchen, when we went over to Heimra, even the old housekeeper entertained us, and did her best for us, in that out-of-the-world place; and here he comes to Lochgarra House—his first visit—he comes to do me a kindness—he comes to prevent mischief—and comes into the house that once was his own—and I don't offer him even a biscuit and a glass of sherry——"
"Really, Mary, you needn't worry about such a mere trifle!" Käthchen protested again.