"Yes, Miss Isla. And so you’re to be at Creagh, and Mr. Malcolm--I beg hiss pardon, the Laird--is to pe there, too, and to pe fery busy in all the glens." The dry note in Elspeth’s voice did not escape Isla’s ear. "He iss not going back to the army, Donald says, but means to live on the place. And, oh, it will nefer pe the same again! He wass here wan day, and he said a lot of things that I’m not mindin’ to say over again to you. But iss it true that he will take away most of the crofts and make big farms and let them to men from the west country and the Lowlands that haf money in their pockets and will pey what we canna?" "My brother talks a good deal, but when he has been at home a little longer and gets to understand things better he will change his mind about a lot of them," said Isla, trying to comfort Elspeth. "Look you, Miss Isla, if it should come that my man had to leave Darrach he will nefer lift up hiss head again. He was born in that bed, and his faither and his grandfaither pefore him, and he wants to dee in it, as they did. That is how Donald is feelin’ about the place, Miss Isla, and it iss what the Laird will nefer understand. But I said that you would understand and would speak for us." Isla was silent, for she could find no words. "And Donald bein’ a silent, quate man, things eat intil him, and he will pe wanderin’ for efer and efer by hisself, thinkin’ on nothing else. But how to pey more rent for the place is peyond him and me baith. We haf nefer a penny over--we just manage to live and to pey oor way. Mr. Malcolm, he talked a lot about breeding stock and such like, but where iss the money to come from to buy the stock at the beginnin’? They haf to be calves and lambs afore they grow to be bullocks and sheep. And that’s how it iss wi’ us here at Darrach, and we are feart for the day that will come." She set the cups down on the table with a kind of mournful clatter and brought out the plate of oatcakes and the delicious scones and the cheese kebbuck and then the firm golden butter-pat from the little dairy. "You will never leave Darrach while I live and can prevent it, Elspeth," said Isla. And she meant what she said. As she walked up the road again and plunged into the bridle path that would bring her by the short cut to the Moor of Creagh she foresaw that her work was by no means done nor yet the fight ended. For if these were the lines Malcolm intended to pursue with Glenogle folks, then how could she live at peace with him? There was bound to be strife in the Lodge of Creagh. She felt a little glow of home-like feeling when the small, ugly, square house, with its smoke curling up, straight and lazy, to the summer sky, came within range of her vision.