’Why, you know, pappa dear,’ she would say as she stood at the window of their hotel in Piccadilly, and watched the carriages passing to and fro beneath her, ’lords may be bad enough, but you know they’re not half as bad as the mosquitoes are at home. They don’t worry one half as much; seems to me you might live in this country a considerable time and never be worried by one of them. Why, that’s the worst of it. When I left home, I thought the earls and marquises would just be crowding us; and they don’t seem to come along at all. I confess they are a mean lot. Don’t they know well enough that the first thing [’the fooist thing,’ she said, of course; but her accent sounded quite quaint and pretty if you happened to be looking at the pretty, soft, opaque, dark eyes] the first thing an American girl has to do when she gets to Europe is to have a lord propose to her, and to reject him? But how can I? They won’t come along! It’s just too horrid for anything; for of course when I go back home they’ll say—"It’s because you’re not a Boston girl. London’s full of lords; but it’s only Boston girls they run after; and, poor things, they and their coronets are always being rejected. The noble pride of a Republican country; wave the banner!"’ But here Mr. Hodson met with no such ill-timed and flippant opposition. Ronald the keeper listened respectfully, and only spoke when spoken to; perhaps the abstract question did not interest him. But when it came to the downright inquiry as to whether he, Strang, considered his master, Lord Ailine, to be in any way whatever a better man than himself, his answer was prompt. ’Yes, sir, he is,’ he said, as they walked leisurely along the road. ’He is a better man than me by two inches round the chest, as I should guess. Why, sir, the time that I hurt my kneecap, one night we were coming down Ben Strua, our two selves, nothing would hinder his lordship but he must carry me on his back all the way down the hill and across the burn till we reached the shepherd’s bothy. Ay, and the burn in spate; and the night as dark as pitch; one wrong step on the swing-bridge, and both of us were gone. There’s Peter McEachran at Tongue, that some of them think’s the strongest man in these parts; and I offered to bet him five shillings he wouldna carry me across that bridge—let alone down the hill—on a dark night. But would he try? Not a bit, sir.’ ’I should think Peter Mac—what’s his name?—was a wiser man than to risk his neck for five shillings,’ Mr. Hodson said drily. ’And you—you would risk yours—for what?’ ’Oh, they were saying things about his lordship,’ Ronald said carelessly. ’Then he is not worshipped as a divinity by everybody?’ the American said shrewdly. But the keeper answered, with much nonchalance— ’I suppose he has his ill-wishers and his well-wishers, like most other folk; and I suppose, like most other folk, he doesna pay ower great attention to what people say of him.’