'This is surely living on the fat of the land, Katie,' he protested.
'And what for no?' said she boldly. 'Let them enjoy themselves that's earned the right to it.'
'But that's not me,' he said.
'Well, it's me,' she answered. 'And when my cousin Ronald comes into my house, it's the best that's in it that's at his service—and no great wonder either!'
Well, her hospitality was certainly a little stormy; but the handsome widow meant kindly and well; and it is scarcely to be marvelled at if—under the soothing influences of the fragrant tobacco—he was rather inclined to substitute for this brisk and business-like Kate Menzies of these present days the gentler figure of the Kate Burnside of earlier years, more especially as she had taken to talking of those times, and of all the escapades the young lads and lasses used to enjoy on Hallowe'en night or during the first-footing at Hogmanay.
'And now I mind me, Ronald,' she said, 'ye used to be a fine singer when ye were a lad. Do ye keep it up still?'
'I sometimes try,' he answered. 'But there's no been much occasion since I came to this town. It's a lonely kind o' place, for a' the number o' folk in it.'
'Well, now ye're among friends, give us something!'
'Oh, that I will, if ye like,' said he readily; and he laid aside his cigar.
And then he sang—moderating his voice somewhat, so that he should not be heard in the front premises—a verse or two of an old favourite—