"It will be all different now," said Käthchen, one evening, when they were come to within a week of the arrival of Mary’s brother and his friend Frank Meredyth. "And you deserve some little rest, Mamie, and some little amusement, after all your hard work. And I want you to be considerate—towards Mr. Meredyth, I mean. It isn’t merely grouse and grilse that are bringing him here. You know what your brother says—that there is no one in such request for shooting parties; he could just have his pick of invitations, all over Scotland, every autumn; so you may be sure it isn’t merely for the grouse and the salmon-fishing he is coming to a little place like Lochgarra. Oh, you need not pretend to deny it, Mamie! And all I want is that you should be a little considerate. He may be very anxious to have you, and yet not quite so anxious to take over your hobby as well. He may not even be interested in the price of home-knitted stockings." Mary Stanley did not answer just at once. The two girls were slowly walking up and down the stone terrace outside the house. It was ten o’clock at night; but it was not yet dark, nor anything approaching to dark. All the world was of a pale, clear, wan lilac colour: and in this coldly luminous twilight any white object—the front of a cottage, for example, or the little Free Church building across the bay—appeared startlingly distinct. There was an absolute silence; the sea was still; two hours ago the sun had gone down behind what seemed a vast and motionless lake of molten copper; and now there was a far-reaching expanse of pearly grey, with the long headlands and Eilean Heimra gathering shadows around them. The heavens were cloudless and serene; over the sombre hills in the east a star throbbed here and there, but it had to be sought for. There appeared to be neither lamp nor candle down in the village—there was no need of them on these magical summer nights. "I do not see that it will be so different," said Mary, presently. "Fred will have to look after Mr. Meredyth. No doubt there will be something of a commotion in so quiet a place—the dogs, and keepers, and ponies; by the way, there will be gillies wanted for the fishing as well as for the shooting later on——" Käthchen began to snigger a little. "I do believe, Mamie," she said, "that that is all the interest you have in the shooting—it will provide so much more employment for your beloved crofters." "Oh, yes, I suppose the place will be a little more brisk and lively," Mary continued, "though that won’t improve it much in my estimation. I wonder what made Fred hire that wretched little steam-launch." She looked towards the tiny vessel that was lying close to the quay: the small white funnel and the decks forward were visible in the mystic twilight; the hull was less clearly defined. "Fancy that thing coming sputtering and crackling into the bay on a beautiful night like this!"