“But if you were a man I should not have come all the way from London to see you,” said Ingram, patting the hand that lay on his arm. “But if I were a man,” said the girl, quite frankly, “I should go up to London to see you.” Mackenzie smiled grimly, and said, “Sheila, it is nonsense you will talk.” At this moment Sheila turned around and said, “Oh, we have forgotten poor Mairi. Mairi, why did you not leave the fish for Duncan? They are too heavy for you. I will carry them to the house.” But Lavender sprang forward, and insisted on taking possession of the thick cord with its considerable weight of lythe. “This is my cousin, Mairi,” said Sheila; and forthwith the young, fair-faced, timid-eyed girl shook hands with the gentlemen, and said, just as if she had been watching Sheila, “And are you ferry well, sir?” For the rest of the way up to the house Lavender walked by the side of Sheila; and as the string of lythe had formed the introduction to their talk, it ran pretty much upon natural history. In about five minutes she had told him more about sea-birds and fish than ever he knew in his life; and she wound up this information by offering to take him out on the following morning, that he might himself catch some lythe. “But I am a wretchedly bad fisherman, Miss Mackenzie,” he said. “It is some years since I tried to throw a fly.” “Oh, there is no need for good fishing when you catch lythe,” she said earnestly. “You will see Mr. Ingram catch them. It is only a big white fly you will need, and a long line, and when the fish takes the fly, down he goes--a great depth. Then when you have got him and he is killed, you must cut the sides, as you see that is done, and string him to a rope and trail him behind the boat all the way home. If you do not do that it is no use at all to eat. But if you like the salmon-fishing my papa will teach you that. There is no one,” she added proudly, “can catch salmon like my papa--not even Duncan--and the gentlemen who come in the autumn to Stornoway, they are quite surprised when my papa goes to fish with them.” “I suppose he is a good shot, too,” said the young man, amused to notice the proud way in which the girl spoke of her father. “Oh, he can shoot anything. He will shoot a seal if he comes up but for one moment above the water; and all the birds--he will get you all the birds if you will wish to take any away with you. We have no deer on the island--it is too small for that--but in the Lewis and in Harris there are many, many thousands of deer, and my papa has many invitations when the gentlemen come up in the autumn; and if you look in the game-book of the lodges you will see there is not any one who has shot so many deer as my papa--not any one whatever.”