He opened the envelope and took out the bit of white heather that Meenie had so hastily despatched: there was no message, not the smallest scrap of writing. But was not this a message—and full of import, too; for surely Meenie would not have adopted this means of communicating with him at the mere instigation of an idle fancy? And why should she have sent it—and at this moment? Had she heard, then? Had any gossip about him reached Inver-Mudal? And how much had she heard? There was a kind of terror in his heart as he went slowly back to the window, and sate down there, still staring absently at this token that had been sent him, and trying hard to make out the meaning of it. What was in Meenie’s mind? What was her intention? Not merely to give him a sprig of white heather with wishes for good luck; there was more than that, as he easily guessed; but how much more? And at first there was little of joy or gladness or gratitude in his thinking; there was rather fear, and a wondering as to what Meenie had heard of him, and a sickening sense of shame. The white gentleness of the message did not strike him; it was rather a reproach—a recalling of other days—Meenie’s eyes were regarding him with proud indignation—this was all she had to say to him now. A man’s voice was heard outside; the door was brusquely opened; Jimmy Laidlaw appeared. ’What, man, no ready yet? Are ye just out o’ your bed? Where’s your breakfast? Dinna ye ken it’s eleven o’clock?’ Ronald regarded him with no friendly eye. He wished to be alone; there was much to think of; there was more in his mind than the prospect of a rattling, devil-may-care drive out to Milngavie. ’Is Kate below?’ said he. ’She is that. Look sharp, man, and get on your coat. She doesna like to keep the cob standing.’ ’Look here, Laidlaw,’ Ronald said, ’I wish ye would do me a good turn. Tell her that—that I’ll be obliged if she will excuse me; I’m no up to the mark; ye’ll have a merrier time of it if ye go by yourselves; there now, like a good fellow, make it straight wi’ her.’ ’Do ye want her to jump doon ma throat?’ retorted Mr. Laidlaw, with a laugh. ’I’ll tak’ no sic message. Come, come, man, pull yoursel’ thegither. What’s the matter? Hammer and tongs in your head?—the fresh air ’ll drive that away. Come along!’ ’The last word’s the shortest,’ Ronald said stubbornly. ’I’m not going. Tell her not to take it ill—I’m—I’m obliged to her, tell her——’ ’Indeed, I’ll leave you and her to fight it out between ye,’ said Laidlaw. ’D’ye think I want the woman to snap my head off?’ He left, and Ronald fondly hoped that they would drive away and leave him to himself. But presently there was a light tapping at the door. ’Ronald!’ He recognised the voice, and he managed to throw a coat over his shoulders—just as Kate Menzies, without further ceremony, made her appearance.