most profound respect, seemed
to glare at the visitor with a virulent look of hatred.

"They don't seem to like me at all down here," thought Max, as they rose
from the table.

"I wonder what's the matter," thought Kenneth. "I never saw father seem
so severe before."

Just then, looking very stern and out of temper, The Mackhai left the
room, and Kenneth, after a moment's hesitation, went after him; but
changed his mind directly, and returned to Max.

"I beg your pardon," he said. "Father does not seem to be well."

"I am sorry. I'm afraid he was put out because I kept you waiting."

"Oh, never mind that. I say, we can't go out with you like that, and
it's such a jolly night. I don't know, though, if you put on an
ulster."

"I think I would rather not go out any more tonight," said Max,
hesitating.

"All right. Then we'll go and have a game at billiards. Come along."

This was more to Max's taste, and, after Grant had been summoned to help
light the lamps, Kenneth shut the door, chuckling to himself about the
big beating he was going to give the Londoner, who, instead of taking a
cue, was gazing round the handsome billiard-room at the crossed
claymores, targes, and heads of red deer, whose antlers formed rests for
spears and specimens of weapons from all parts of the world.

"Are those swords sharp?" asked Max.

"Sharp? Yes, I should think they are. They're the claymores my
ancestors used to handle to cut off the heads of the Macleods and
Macdougals."

"Used there to be much fighting then?"

"Fighting? I should think there was. Every chief lived in a castle and
had a galley, and they used to fill them half full of pipers and half
full of fighting men, and go to war with their neighbours."

"It must have been very terrible."

"Not a bit of it. Very jolly--much better than living in these tame
times. Come along; you break."

Max played first, and handled his cue so easily that Kenneth stared.

"Hallo!" he said, "you've played before."

"Yes; we have a billiard-table at home."

"Oh!" ejaculated Kenneth, and the big beating did not seem so near. Not
that it proved to be more distant, only it was the other way on, for Max
played quietly and respectably, keeping up a steady scoring, while
Kenneth's idea seemed to be that the best way was to hit the balls hard,
so that they might chance to go somewhere.

This they did, but not so as to add to his score, and the consequence
was that, when