’Well,’ said he (and very glad he was to have the letter safe and sound in his possession), ’I was telling him about the children’s party to-morrow night; and he’s a friendly kind o’ man, that; he said he would like to have been at it, if he could have stayed; and I’m sure he would have got on wi’ them well enough, for he’s a friendly kind o’ man, as I say. Well, then, I couldna tell him the exact number o’ the bairns; but no matter what number, each one o’ them is to find sevenpence under the teacup—that’s a penny for each fish he got. Ay, he’s a shrewd-headed fellow, too; for says he "I suppose, now, the old people will be for having the children save up the sixpence, so at least they’ll have the penny to spend;" and he was curious even to find out where the bairns in a place like this got their toys, or if sweeties ever came their way. "It’s little enough of either o’ them," I said to him, "they see, except when Miss Douglas has been to Lairg or Tongue;" and he was very anxious to make your acquaintance, I may tell ye, but he said he would wait till his daughter came with him the next time. I’m thinking the bairns will be pleased to find a little packet of money in the saucers; and it’s not too much for a man to pay for the luck o’ getting seven salmon in the middle of January—for who could have expected that?’ And then Meenie laughed. ’It’s little you know, Ronald, what is in store for you to-morrow night. It will be the hardest night’s work you ever undertook in your life.’ ’I’m not afraid o’t,’ he answered simply. ’But you do not know yet.’ She opened her ulster and from an inside pocket produced the formidable document that she had shown to Ronald’s sister; and then she buttoned the long garment again, and contentedly sate herself down on the low stone parapet, the programme in her hand. And now all trace of embarrassment was fled from her; and when she spoke to him, or smiled, those clear frank eyes of hers looked straight into his, fearing nothing, but only expecting a welcome. She did not, as he did, continually remember that she was Miss Douglas, the doctor’s daughter, and he merely a smart young deerstalker. To her he was simply Ronald—the Ronald that every one knew and liked; who had a kind of masterful way throughout this neighbourhood, and was arbiter in all matters of public concern; but who, nevertheless, was of such amazing good nature that there was no trouble he would not undertake to gratify her slightest wish. And as he was so friendly and obliging towards her, she made no doubt he was so to others; and that would account for his great popularity, she considered; and she thought it was very lucky for this remote little hamlet that it held within it one who was capable of producing so much good feeling, and keeping the social atmosphere sweet and sound.