"Oh," says she, hastily and anxiously, "I am saying what I hear. My acquaintance with Dr. Sutherland is—is quite recent, I may say; though I have met him in London. I only got to know something about him when he was in Edinburgh, and I happened to be there too."
"He is coming back to the yacht," observes Mr. Smith.
"He will be foolish to think of it," she answers, simply.
At this stage the yacht begins to wake up. The head of Hector of Moidart, much dishevelled, appears at the forecastle, and that wiry mariner is rubbing his eyes; but no sooner does he perceive that one of the ladies is on deck than he suddenly ducks down again—to get his face washed, and his paper collar. Then there is a voice heard in the saloon calling:—
"Who has left my spirit-lamp burning?"
"Oh, good gracious!" says the Youth, and tumbles down the companion incontinently.
Then the Laird appears, bringing up with him a huge red volume entitled Municipal London; but no sooner does he find that Miss Avon is on deck than he puts aside that mighty compendium, and will have her walk up and down with him before breakfast.
"What?" he says, eyeing the cup and saucer, "have ye had your breakfast already?"
"Mr. Smith was so kind as to bring me a cup of tea."
"What," he says again—and he is obviously greatly delighted. "Of his own making? I did not think he had as much gumption."