ul brown
trout stream that goes racing down our hill. There's a moor on one side,
and a wood on the other, and a peat bog at the bottom.'

'We might perhaps stop short of the bog.'

'Yes, we'd stop at old McTaggart's. He's the head-keeper and a real
friend. McTaggart "has the Gaelic." But he hasn't much else, so perhaps
you'd prefer his wife.'

'Why should I prefer his wife?'

Jean's face was full of laughter. Stonor's plan of going to Scotland had
singularly altered the character of that country. Its very inhabitants
were now perceived to be enlivening even to talk about; to _know_--the
gamekeeper's wife alone--would repay the journey thither.

'I assure you Mrs. McTaggart is a travelled, experienced person.'

He shook his head while he humoured her. 'I'm not sure travel or
experience is what we chiefly prize--in ladies.'

'Oh, isn't it? I didn't know, you see. I didn't know how dreadfully you
might miss the terribly clever people you're accustomed to in London.'

'It's because of the terribly clever people we are glad to go away.'

He waxed so eloquent in his admiration of the womanly woman (who seemed
by implication to have steered clear of Mrs. McTaggart's pitfalls), that
Jean asked with dancing eyes--

'Are you consoling me for not being clever?'

'Are you sure you aren't?'

'Oh, dear, yes. No possible shadow of doubt about it.'

'Then,' he laughed, 'I'm coming to Inverness-shire! I'll even go so far
as to call on the McTaggarts if you'll undertake that she won't instruct
me about foreign lands.'

'No such irrelevance! She'd tell you about London. She was here for six
whole months. And she got something out of it I don't believe even you
have. A Certificate of Merit.'

'No. London certainly never gave me one.'

'You see! Mrs. McTaggart lived the life of the Metropolis with such
success that she passed an examination before she left. The subject was:
"Incidents in the Life of Abraham." It says so on the certificate. She
has it framed and hung in the parlour.'

He smiled. 'I admit few can point to such fruits of Metropolitan
Ausbildung. But I think I shall prefer the burnside--or even the bog.'

'No; the moors. They're best of all.' She sat looking straight before
her, with her heart's deep well overflowing at her eyes. As if she felt
vaguely that some sober reason must be found for seeing those same moors
in this glorified light all of a sudden, she went on, 'I'll show you a
special place where