’I am sure no,’ Ronald said hastily, and with an embarrassment he sought in vain to conceal. ’If Miss Douglas cares to come at all, it will be when you ask her. And why should ye write, man? Go down the road and ask her yourself—I mean, ask Mrs. Douglas; it’s as simple as simple. What for should ye write a letter? Would ye send it through the post too? That’s ceremony for next-door neighbours!’ ’But Ronald, lad, if ye should see the young lass herself——’ ’No, no; take your own message, Mr. Murray; they can but give you a civil answer.’ Mr. Murray was left doubting. It was clear that the awful shadow of Glengask and Orosay still dwelt over the doctor’s household; and that the innkeeper was not at all sure as to what Mrs. Douglas would say to an invitation that she and her daughter Meenie—or Williamina, as the mother called her—should be present at a merry-meeting of farm lads, keepers, gillies, and kitchen wenches. *CHAPTER VIII.* *THE NEW YEAR’S FEAST.* Loud and shrill in the empty barn arose the strains of the _Athole March_, warning the young lasses to hasten with the adjustment of their ribbons, and summoning the young lads about to look sharp and escort them. The long and narrow table was prettily laid out; two candelabra instead of one shed a flood of light on the white cover; the walls were decorated with evergreens and with Meenie’s resplendent paper blossoms; the peats in the improvised fireplace burned merrily. And when the company began to arrive, in twos and threes, some bashful and hesitating, others merry and jocular, there was a little embarrassment about the taking of places until Ronald laid down his pipes and set to work to arrange them. The American gentleman had brought in Mrs. Murray in state, and they were at the head of the table; while Ronald himself took the foot, in order, as he said, to keep order—if he were able—among the lasses who had mostly congregated there. Then the general excitement and talking was hushed for a minute, while the innkeeper said grace; and then the girls—farm wenches, some of them, and Nelly, the pretty parlour-maid, and Finnuala, the cook’s youngest sister, who was but lately come from Uist and talked the quaintest English, and Mr. Murray’s two nieces from Tongue, and the other young lasses about the inn—all of them became demure and proper in their manner, for they were about to enjoy the unusual sensation of being waited upon. This, of course, was Ronald’s doing. There had been a question as to which of the maids were to bring in supper for so large a number; so he addressed himself to the young fellows who were standing about.