’I will do anything else you like,’ the long editor said, with much complaisance. ’I will fall in love with the young bride, if you like. Or I’ll tell lies about the weight of the salmon when I get back home. But an apology? Seems to me a man making an apology looks about as foolish as a woman throwing a stone: I don’t see my way to that. Besides, where does the need of it come in, anyhow? You never read the article. It was very complimentary, as I think; yes, it was so; a whole column and more about a Scotch gamekeeper——’ ’A Scotch gamekeeper!’ Miss Carry said proudly. ’Well, now, just you listen to me. Ronald knows nothing at all about this article; if he did, he would only laugh at it; but he never heard of it; and it’s not to be spoken of here. But I mean to speak of it, by and by. I mean to speak of it, when I make the acquaintance of—what’s his distinguished name?——’ But here Miss Kerfoot—who, with her married sister, occupied the other side of the waggonette—broke in. ’You two quarrelling again!’ And then she sighed. ’But what is the good of a drive, anyway, when we haven’t got Doctor Tom and his banjo?’ ’A banjo—in Strath-Terry?’ Miss Carry cried. ’Do you mean to say you would like to hear a banjo tinkle-tinkling in a country like this?’ ’Yes, my dyaw,’ said Miss Kerfoot coolly: she had been making some studies in English pronunciation, and was getting on pretty well. ’I suppose you can’t imagine how Adam passed the time without one in the Garden of Eden—wanted to play to Eve on the moonlight nights—a cake-walk, I suppose—pumpkin-pie—why, I wonder what’s the use of bringing you to Europe.’ For answer Miss Kerfoot began to hum to herself—but with the words sounding clearly enough— _’I’se gwine back to Dixie,_ _I’se gwine back to Dixie,_ _I’se gwine where the orange blossoms grow;_ _O, I’d rather be in Dixie,_ _I’d rather be in Dixie,_ _For travelling in the Highlands is so——’_ But here remorse of conscience smote her; and she seized Carry’s hand. ’No, I won’t say it—you poor, weak, invalid thing. And were they worrying you about the Highlands, and the slow trains, and the stuffy omnibus at Lairg? Well, they shan’t say anything more to you—that they shan’t; and you are to have everything your own way; and I’m going to fall in love with Ronald, just to keep you company.’ But alas! when they did eventually get to Inver-Mudal, there was no Ronald to be found there. Mr. Murray was there, and Mrs. Murray, and the yellow-haired Nelly; and the travellers were told that luncheon was awaiting them; and also that Mr. Hodson had had the second boat put in readiness, lest any of them should care to try the fishing in the afternoon. ’But where is Ronald?’ said Miss Carry, not in the least concealing her vexation. ’Don’t cry, poor thing,’ Miss Kerfoot whispered to her. ’It shall have its Ronald!’ ’Oh, don’t bother!’ she said angrily. ’Mr. Murray, where is Ronald? Is he with my father on the loch?’