Now at last this is too much. The gentle, small creature has been listening with a fine, proud, hurt air on her face, and with tears near to her eyes. Is it thus that her Scotch student, of whom she is the fierce champion, is to be thrust aside?
"Why," she says, with an indignant warmth; "you take it all for granted! I thought it was a joke. Do you really think your nephew is going to marry Mary? And Angus Sutherland in love with her!"
"God bless me!" exclaimed the Laird, with such a start that the bulky Municipal London banged down on the cabin floor.
Was it the picking up of that huge tome, or the consciousness that he had been betrayed into an unusual ejaculation, that crimsoned the Laird's face? When he sate upright again, however, wonder was the chief expression visible in his eyes.
"Of course I have no right to say so," she instantly and hurriedly adds: "it is only a guess—a suspicion. But haven't you seen it? And until quite recently I had other suspicions, too. Why, what do you think would induce a man in Angus Sutherland's position to spend such a long time in idleness?"
But by this time the Laird had recovered his equanimity. He was not to be disturbed by any bogie. He smiled serenely.
"We will see, ma'am; we will see. If it is so with the young man, it is a peety. But you must admit yourself that ye see how things are likely to turn out?"
"I don't know," she said, with reluctance: she would not admit that she had been grievously troubled during the past few days. "Very well, ma'am, very well," said the Laird, blithely. "We will see who is right. I am not a gambler, but I would wager ye a gold ring, a sixpence, and a silver thimble that I am no so far out. I have my eyes open; oh, aye! Now I am going on deck to see where we are."
And so the Laird rose, and put the bulky volume by, and passed along the saloon to the companion. We heard
Sing tántara! Sing tántara!