"Come, lad," said the Laird. "Are ye afraid to try a glass of Scotch whisky? You chemical men know too much: that is not wholesome; and you a Scotchman too—take a glass, man!"
"Twelve, if you like," said the Doctor, laughing; "but one will do for my purpose. I'm going to follow your example, sir; I am going to propose a toast. It is a good old custom."
This was a proposal after the Laird's own heart. He insisted on the women being summoned; and they came. He took no notice that Mary Avon was rose-red, and downcast of face; and that the elder woman held her hand tightly, and had obviously been crying a little bit—not tears of sorrow. When they were seated, he handed each a glass. Then he called for silence, waiting to hear our Doctor make a proper and courtly speech about his hostess, or about the White Dove, or John of Skye, or anything.
But what must have been the Laird's surprise when he found that it was his own health that was being proposed! And that not in the manner of the formal oratory that the Laird admired, but in a very simple and straightforward speech, that had just a touch of personal and earnest feeling in it. For the young Doctor spoke of the long days and nights we had spent together, far away from human ken; and how intimately associated people became on board ship; and how thoroughly one could learn to know and love a particular character through being brought into such close relationship. And he said that friendships thus formed in a week or a month might last for a lifetime. And he could not say much, before the very face of the Laird, about all those qualities which had gained for him something more than our esteem—qualities especially valuable on board ship—good humour, patience, courtesy, light-heartedness——
"Bless me," cried the Laird, interrupting the speaker in defiance of all the laws that govern public oratory, "I maun stop this—I maun stop this! Are ye all come together to make fun of me—eh? Have a care—have a care!"
He looked round threateningly; and his eye lighted with a darker warning on Mary Avon.
"That lass, too," said he; "and I thought her a friend of mine; and she has come to make a fool of me like the rest! And so ye want to make me the Homesh o' this boat? Well, I may be a foolish old man; but my eyes are open. I know what is going on. Come here, my lass, until I tell ye something."
Mary Avon went and took the seat next him; and he put his hand gently on her shoulder.
"Young people will have their laugh and their joke," said he.
"It was no joke at all!" said she warmly.