Miss Kirkby, still abstracted by some humorous astonishment, said quickly: “Wait a minute. I'll just run up and see if maw's coming down. She'd admire to see you.” Then she stopped, hesitated, and as she rose added, “Then a laird's wife wouldn't be Lady anything, anyway, would she?” “She certainly would acquire no title merely through her marriage.” The young girl laughed again, nodded, and disappeared. The consul, amused yet somewhat perplexed over the naive brusqueness of the interview, waited patiently. Presently she returned, a little out of breath, but apparently still enjoying some facetious retrospect, and said, “Maw will be down soon.” After a pause, fixing her bright eyes mischievously on the consul, she continued:-- “Did you see much of Malcolm?” “I saw him only once.” “What did you think of him?” The consul in so brief a period had been unable to judge. “You wouldn't think I was half engaged to him, would you?” The consul was obliged again to protest that in so short an interview he had been unable to conceive of Malcolm's good fortune. “I know what you mean,” said the girl lightly. “You think he's a crank. But it's all over now; the engagement's off.” “I trust that this does not mean that you doubt his success?” The lady shrugged her shoulders disdainfully. “That's all right enough, I reckon. There's a hundred thousand dollars in the syndicate. Maw put in twenty thousand, and Custer's bound to make it go--particularly as there's some talk of a compromise. But Malcolm's a crank, and I reckon if it wasn't for the compromise the syndicate wouldn't have much show. Why, he didn't even know that the McHulishes had no title.” “Do you think he has been suffering under a delusion in regard to his relationship?” “No; he was only a fool in the way he wanted to prove it. He actually got these boys to think it could be filibustered into his possession. Had a sort of idea of 'a rising in the Highlands,' you know, like that poem or picture--which is it? And those fool boys, and Custer among them, thought it would be great fun and a great spree. Luckily, maw had the gumption to get Watson to write over about it to one of his friends, a Mr.--Mr.--MacFen, a very prominent man.” “Perhaps you mean Sir James MacFen,” suggested the consul. “He's a knight. And what did HE say?” he added eagerly. “Oh, he wrote a most sensible letter,” returned the lady, apparently mollified by the title of Watson's adviser, “saying that there was little doubt, if any, that if the American McHulishes wanted the old estate they could get it by the expenditure of a little capital. He offered to make the trial; that was the compromise they're talking about. But he didn't say anything about there being no 'Lord' McHulish.” “Perhaps he thought, as you were Americans, you didn't care for THAT,” said the consul dryly. “That's no reason why we shouldn't have it if it belonged to us, or we chose to pay for it,” said the lady pertly.