Scotty turned away impatiently. The boys always seemed to get a great deal of fun out of Weaver Jimmie's tempestuous love-affair, but he found it very uninteresting. He slipped under the table, clambered upon the bench beside Hamish, and stuck his curly head between the book and the young man's face; for he had long ago discovered this to be the only effectual means of bringing Hamish back to actualities. Such a proceeding would not have been safe with Callum or Rory, but Hamish was always patient. "What ye readin', Hamish?" he inquired coaxingly. "Jist a book," said Hamish dreamily. "Be careful of it now. It belongs to the Captain!" "Captain Herbert? The Englishman Grandaddy hates?" "Yes; whisht, will ye? I didn't get it from him, though. Kirsty John's mother had it, and lent it to me." "Was you ever at the Captain's place?" "Yes, once." "Is it fearful grand?" "Yes, I suppose so. But I would jist be at the back door. Take care, now, and let me read!" "The back door!" Scotty's eyes ranged wonderingly round the walls. With the exception of the trap-door leading to the loft the house had but one opening. "Eh, the Captain's folks must be awful grand, Hamish, to be having two doors to their house." Hamish laughed. "There's grander things than that there; there's carpets on the floor, an' a piano to play on, an' a whole roomful o' books! Losh!" he exclaimed, "I'd like to get my hands on them jist for a day!" "How did Kirsty John's mother get this one?" "The lady that lives there lent it to her. Kirsty's mother used to work for them. Go on away now, and let me read!" for the boy was running his fingers through the pages. "There's no pictures; go and play with Bruce." But Scotty had turned to the fly-leaf and had discovered some writing. "What's that, Hamish?" Hamish read the inscription, which was written in a round boyish scrawl, "Isabel Douglas Herbert, from her loving cousin, Harold." "Who're they?" "The boy's the Captain's son, and the little girl is his niece. I saw her once at Kirsty's. She's a pretty, wee thing." "Huh!" Scotty was disdainful. "I don't like girls. They will jist be cry-babies. Is the boy as big as me?" "He's a little bigger, I guess. He goes to school away in Toronto." "Bet I could fight him. Is Toronto away over in the old country?" "No, it's in Canada. Be quiet. I want to read." "Oh! Is Canady very far away?" "No, it's right here; this is Canada." "Oh! An' will the school-house be in Canady too?" "Yes." "An' the Captain's house?" "Imph-n-n." "Oh! An' all, Oro, an' Lake Simcoe? What will you be laughing at?" "Wait till old McAllister learns you some geography. You'll hear something about Canada that'll surprise you, whatever."