WIDOW. It’s two miles round by the road, but there’s a short cut across the moor. (_Looking through the window._) If you will ask the postman, who is just coming, to show you the way, he’ll put you right. It’s just a little over half a mile to the station by the short cut. MRS S. Thank you so much. Good evening, Mrs Mackay. I’ll see you later on. (_Exit._) WIDOW. A nice lady, but one that’s needing to be spoken to very seriously about her own soul. I wonder what sort o’ minister she’ll be sitting under. She’s no’ afraid to be telling lies to her son and her servant for fear they will get married, and maybe they’ll be very fond of one another. It’s doing the devil’s work to come between young people in love; and if they’re meant for one another it’s no’ her or anybody else will keep them apart.... I wonder what Màiri will say when I tell her.... And, oh! dear me, Màiri will not be pleased with me. I never said a word about money. I never thought on such a thing. And worst of all, I never asked the lady her name. Am I no’ the stupid one? [_Motor horn sounds in the distance._] I wonder who that will be. The doctor, very likely. Somebody must be ill. (_Looking through the window._) It’s no’ the doctor, but a strange gentleman coming this way. It canna’ be the lady’s son, for he’s coming by train. This will be another veesitor, but he’s too late. I wish Màiri was here. I’m no’ fit to be speaking to the veesitors. [_Enter Sandy Speedwell._] WIDOW. Good day to you, sir, I’m ferry glad to see you, indeet. Will you be taking a chair? SANDY. I’m your lodger, Mrs Mackay. I had a wire from the Postmaster and motored here with a friend. This is a beautiful glen. WIDOW. I hope there’s no mistake. Will you be the gentleman who is a painter and a poet too? SANDY (_astonished_). Really you surprise me, madam. What little bird has been carrying tales about me? I thought I had reached the back of the world. WIDOW. A lady called here, sir, and was telling me. But---- SANDY. A lady? What lady? (_Anxiously._) Your niece, your daughter, your cousin--who is she, what is she? A young lady or an old lady? WIDOW (_smiling_). No relation of mine, sir. You’ll soon be seeing her yourself. Maybe I’ll better go and tell her you are here. She’s neither young nor old, but somesing between the two. (_Aside._) I musn’t be telling him it was his own mother. SANDY. No, don’t go. I’m in no mood to meet any of my acquaintances. (_Aside._) Those prying gossips! One can’t go a step for them. (_Aloud._) I prefer to talk to yourself, Mrs Mackay, but I must ask you to do me a special favour. WIDOW. I’m at your service, sir. SANDY. _Don’t_ call me “sir.” My name is Sandy.