"Oh, yes," answered Sadie, "a very good snack at the station buffet at Glasgow, hadn’t we, Peter? We should like a cup of tea perhaps, by and by, after we have seen the house. I have heard of your Scotch scones and butter and honey. They have very good imitations of them at the hotels, but we’ve been told--haven’t we, Hylton?--that they don’t begin to taste like the real thing." Isla noticed the change of name, and she decided that the more dignified one suited the brother better. "Peter" was certainly ridiculous, and yet it had a kindly human sound and she preferred to think of him as kindly to thinking of him as dignified at the moment. Achree so much needed kindness, and she--poor girl!--more than all, though she was hardly conscious of her own need. Rosmead was fully conscious of it. He had never in the whole course of his experience met with anything that touched or appealed to him more than the sight of this tall, slight girl upon whose shoulders rested what made her life a burden--the whole responsibility of the house of her fathers. Cattanach, a discerning man, had told him just sufficient to arouse his compassionate interest. Though he spoke so little, Isla felt comforted by his presence. The thing that had been a nightmare resolved itself, under his kindly touch, into something that might not only be possible, but might also prove good. This man, of alien race though he was, would never harry Achree, nor would he bring to it strange new ways of life and thought. He looked strong, generous, and simple--as the truly strong always are. While this subtle bond was being established between these two thus so strangely brought together, Sadie did the talking. "Yes, we would like to see the house--every bit of it--but not to poke. Only, however, if it is convenient and only what you are willing to show--eh, Peter? We don’t want to rush Miss Mackinnon, and we can easily come out another day and bring Vivien." "Vivien is your sister?" said Isla inquiringly, as she laid her jacket down on the end of the high-backed old sofa. Sadie nodded. "She had a headache. She is not so very strong, and she can’t stand racket. I’m the untirable, uncrushable, wholly inextinguishable member of the family. But not a bad sort--eh, Peter?" Peter indulgently smiled. "I hope General Mackinnon is quite well?" he inquired. "I have heard from Mr. Cattanach that his health has not been good of late." "No--he is not so very strong. To-day, because it felt really like spring, he has gone for a little walk. I was with him. But, yes--he is quite all right. One of the men is coming back with him. If you don’t mind, will you come and see the library before he returns? It is the room he sits in chiefly, and I am afraid it will be a little difficult for him to understand what you are doing in it if he should see you there. We can come back here, of course, for tea."