"We must hurry," exclaimed D'Haberville; "it is thirty-six miles from here to St. Thomas. My uncle De Beaumont takes supper at seven. If we get there too late, we shall probably make a poor meal. The good things will be all gobbled up. You know the proverb, _tarde venientibus ossa_." "Scotch hospitality is proverbial," exclaimed Archie. "With us the welcome is the same day or night. That is the cook's business." "Verily," said Jules, "I believe it as if I saw it with my own eyes; were it otherwise it would show a plentiful lack of skill or good-will on the part of your peticoated cooks. It is delightfully primitive, that Scotch cookery of yours. With a few handfuls of oatmeal sodden in cold water--since you have neither wood nor coal in your country--you can make an excellent soup at little cost and with no great expenditure of culinary science, and feast your guests as well in the night as in the daytime. It is quite true that, when some distinguished personage seeks your hospitality--which often happens, since Scotland is loaded down with enough coats-of-arms to crush a camel--it is true I say, that you set before him, in addition to your oatmeal soup, the head, feet, or nice, juicy tail of a sheep, with salt for sauce; the other parts of the animal never seem to grow in Scotland." Lochiel contented himself with glancing at Jules over his shoulder and repeating: "'Quis talia fando Myrmidonum, Dolopumve'--" "What's that?" exclaimed Jules, in assumed indignation; "you call me a Myrmidon, a Dolopian--me, the philosopher! And, moreover, my worthy pedant, you abuse me in Latin--you who so murder the accent with your Caledonian tongue that Virgil must squirm in his grave! You call me a Myrmidon--me, the geometrician of my class! You remember that the Professor of Mathematics predicted that I should be another Vauban--" "Yes, indeed," interrupted Archie, "in recognition of your famous perpendicular line, which leaned so much to the left that all the class trembled lest it should fall and crush its base; seeing which, our professor sought to console you by predicting that your services would be required in case of the reconstruction of the Tower of Pisa." Jules struck a tragic attitude and cried: "'Tu t'en souviens, Cinna! et veux m'assassiner.'