She had nearly overtaken him just as they had got close to it, when the door opened, and an old man appeared, followed by a little fair-haired child, much younger than Norman.
“What is the matter?” asked the old man, eyeing the two children whose voices he had heard.
“My young brother ran away from me, and I tumbled down and wet my frock,” answered Fanny.
“Come in, then, and dry yourself,” said the old man.
“But I have wet my stockings and shoes,” said Fanny, “and they will take a long time to dry.”
“I shall be happy to have your company, my pretty lassie, as long as you like to stay,” said the old man. “I ken ye are staying with Glen Tulloch and ony of his friends are welcome here.”
“We are staying with Mr Maclean,” answered Fanny, “and were making an excursion over the moor, when we saw your cottage, and thought we should like to visit you.”
“We call Mr Maclean Glen Tulloch about here, as that’s the name of his house,” answered the old man. “Come in! come in! We will soon get your wet shoes and stockings off, though I am afraid you must sit without any while they are drying, for Robby there has never had a pair to his feet, and my old slippers are too large for you, I have a notion.”
Fanny observed that though the old man used a few Scotch expressions, he spoke English perfectly. His dress, too, was more like that of a sailor than the costume worn by the surrounding peasantry.
Norman, who had also come into the house, stood while they were speaking, eyeing the little boy, without saying anything. At last, looking up at the old man, he asked, “Is that your son?”