"Why? Why is this old woman friendly? Because she saw that Mr. Ross of Heimra condescended to be civil to me yesterday evening. If he throws a word to me, then I am to be tolerated! But if I had come here by myself, I might have offered to double the size of her byre, and give her two cows instead of one, and there would have been nothing but sullen looks and silence. Was I not warned the moment I set foot in the place? It’s Donald Ross of Heimra who is their laird. I am a stranger, and an enemy." And now it was Kate Glendinning’s turn to make a few discreet inquiries: for the allegation that a Highland gentleman would condescend to sale and barter was still rankling in her soul. "Well, Mrs. MacVean," said she pleasantly, "that was very excellent brandy you gave us last night, and very welcome, too: I suppose we should have died of the cold and wet if you had not given us the hot drink. But where did you get brandy in an out-of-the-world place like this?" An alarmed expression came into the old woman’s face, though she endeavoured to conceal it. She looked away down the hill-side, and said vaguely: "It was—in the house. Oh, ay—in the house." "Yes; but where did you get it?" Kate asked. There was a moment of silence—and distress. "The brandy?—Mr. Ross—he ordering me to give it to you." "Oh, yes," said the young lady, in the same off-hand sort of way, "and it was very thoughtful of him—and very kind of you. It seemed to bring us back to life again. I don’t know what we should have done without it. I was only wondering where you got such good brandy in this part of the Highlands." The old woman looked anxiously from the one to the other: were they trying to entrap her?—even after their generous promise that she should have the cow. "Oh, ay," she said, still clinging desperately to those evasive phrases, "the brandy—it in the house—and—and Mr. Ross, he ordering me to give it—and any one very pleased, whatever he wishes. And the ladies—very, very wet and cold—and a long weh home to Lochgarra—" "Come, come, Mrs. MacVean," Käthchen said, "you ought to know that we don’t want to make any trouble—is it likely, just after Miss Stanley has promised to give you the cow? I am asking only out of curiosity; and I can keep a secret as well as any one. And of course we are quite aware that it is Mr. Ross who brings the brandy into the neighbourhood—and very properly, too, for good brandy is better than bad whisky, and you must have something in the house in case of sickness. Very well: tell me what he charges you for it." "Charges?" the old woman repeated, with a puzzled air. "Yes," said Käthchen, encouragingly. "I only want to know for—for information; and I am not likely to tell any one. What do you pay him for it?" Then the old grandmother understood; and though she did not say much, there was something in her tone that showed how keenly she resented this imputation.