"And the sea outside, Andrew—is it very bad?"
"It's a bit wild," he admitted; and then he added, with a cool audacity: "but mebbe Miss Stanley would be for going back with me now, if Archie is too afraid to go out?"
"Oh, no, thank you," said she. "If Archie does not think it safe, I should not think of venturing. I will wait for him—thank you all the same."
Here there was an awkward pause. Mary left the little group, walking over to the edge of the plateau, to get a better view of the distant and troubled line of the sea. The Gillie Ciotach stood twirling his Glengarry bonnet. Then he said timidly to Martha—
"Are there any empty casks going back?"
"None but yourself, Andrew, my lad," said Martha, with a dark smile in her eyes.
At this he plucked up spirit.
"There's a way of curing that, as you know, Martha," said he. "And it's many's the time I have come out to Heimra, and I never before had to complain of going away like an empty cask."
"And you need not complain of it now, Andrew, my son," said Martha. "Come away round to the kitchen, and I will get you something—ay, and you will take something down to old Dugald, too. For although the master of the house is not in his own home, I know his wish; and it is I who would get the blame if any one went away hungry or cold from Eilean Heimra."
But it was not until the afternoon that Big Archie considered it prudent to cross to the mainland; and a rough passage they had of it. Mary, however, was on this occasion provided with an abundance of wraps; and was indifferent to wind, and spray, and rain. Possibly there may have been other reasons for her apathy.