CHAPTER VII.
A LAST DAY ON THE LOCH.
Ronald came down to the loch-side the next morning just as she was about to get into the coble—her father having started a few minutes before.
'I hear you have not been doing very well with the fishing,' said he, in that brisk, business-like fashion of his.
'The salmon appear to have gone away somewhere,' she replied.
'Oh, but that will never do,' said he cheerfully. 'We must try and make some alteration.'
He took the key of the kennels from his pocket.
'Here, Johnnie lad, ye may go and take the dogs out for a run.'
Was Ronald, then, coming with her? Her eyes brightened with anticipation; there was a welcome in the look of her face that ought to have been sufficient reward for him. Nor had she the courage to protest—though she knew that his time was drawing short now. As for the salmon—well, it was not about salmon she was thinking exclusively.
'They say a change of gillie sometimes brings a change of luck,' said he good-naturedly; and he began to overhaul the tackle, substituting smaller minnows for those already on. 'And I think we will try down at the other end of the loch this time. We will make sure of some trout in any case.'