There was really no news in the letter. Sheila merely said that she could not as yet answer her father's question as to the time she might probably visit Lewis. She hoped he was well, and that, if she could not get up to Borva that autumn, he would come South to London for a time, when the hard weather set in in the North. And so forth. But there was something in the tone of the letter that struck the old man as being unusual and strange. It was very formal in its phraseology. He read it twice over very carefully, and forgot altogether that Duncan was waiting. Indeed, he was going to turn away, forgetting his work and the other letters that still lay on the beach, when he observed that there was a postscript on the other side of the last page. It merely said: "Will you please address your letters now to No. ---- Pembroke road, South Kensington, where I may be for some time?" That was an imprudent postscript. If she had shown the letter to any one, she would have been warned of the blunder she was committing. But the child had not much cunning, and wrote and posted the letter in the belief that her father would simply do as she asked him, and suspect nothing and ask no questions. When old Mackenzie read that postscript he could only stare at the paper before him. "Will there be anything wrong, sir?" said the tall keeper, whose keen gray eyes had been fixed on his master's face. The sound of Duncan's voice startled and recalled Mr. Mackenzie, who immediately turned, and said lightly, "Wrong? What wass you thinking would be wrong? Oh, there is nothing wrong whatever. But Mairi, she will be greatly surprised, and she is going to write no letters until she comes back to tell you what she has seen: that is the message there will be for Scarlett. Sheila--she is very well." Duncan picked up the other letters and newspapers. "You may tek them to the house, Duncan," said Mr. Mackenzie; and then he added carelessly, "Did you hear when the steamer was thinking of leaving Stornoway this night?" "They were saying it would be seven o'clock or six, as there was a great deal of cargo to go on her." "Six o'clock? I'm thinking, Duncan, I would like to go with her as far as Oban or Glasgow. Oh yes, I will go with her as far as Glasgow. Be sharp, Duncan, and bring in the boat." The keeper stared, fearing his master had gone mad: "You wass going with her this ferry night?" "Yes. Be sharp, Duncan!" said Mackenzie, doing his best to conceal his impatience and determination under a careless air. "Bit, sir, you canna do it," said Duncan peevishly. "You hef no things looked out to go. And by the time we would get to Callernish it wass a ferry hard drive there will be to get to Stornoway by six o'clock; and there is the mare, sir, she will hef lost a shoe--"