pretended to be his grandfather's
friend, to publish his disgrace before these strangers! It was
unbearable! "I'll not be English," he muttered. "I'll jist be Scotch,
an' my name's MacDonald!" He clenched his fists and wagged his curly
head threateningly. "He must be right," said the man eagerly. "He
should certainly know."

Store Thompson shook his head smilingly. "He lives in the Oa, sir," he
confided in a low tone, "an' he wants to be a MacDonald. But yon's his
name, nevertheless!"

Captain Herbert turned away abruptly, as though he had not heard.
"Eleanor, I shall be ready almost immediately," he said to the lady in
the silk gown, and, with a hasty good-bye, he stepped outside, Store
Thompson following. Scotty slipped out behind them; the fight was
over, the Murphys and their friends were evidently retreating. He
could see his grandfather's tall, commanding form in the midst of a
victorious crowd. He drew a great breath of relief. As he stood
gazing proudly at them, he felt his hand touched gently by little,
soft, gloved fingers. He wheeled round to find a pair of big, blue
eyes looking at him from out of the coquettish rim of a fur-trimmed
hood. The eyes were very sympathetic. "I'm Scotch, too," came in a
whisper from inside the wrappings, "an' it's nice to be Scotch, isn't
it?"

Scotty's heart opened immediately; here was someone who evidently
believed in him.

"But--but, won't you be Captain Herbert's little girl?" he asked,
wonderingly.

"Yes," she answered with a baby-lisp, that made him feel very big and
superior. "He's my uncle Walter; but my mamma was Scotch, an' my
name's Isabel Douglas Herbert, an' Uncle Walter says I'm his Scotch
lassie!"

"Oh!" Scotty looked at her with new interest. "An' you're Kirsty
John's little girl, too, ain't you?"

"Yes," she cried delightedly. "Do you know Kirsty?"

"Yes."

"Oh, an' Gran'mamma MacDonald? An' Weaver Jimmie?"

"Oh, yes!"

"I love Jimmie; he tells lovely stories when I go to see Kirsty, 'bout
fairies, an'--an' everything. Do you know any stories?"

A silken rustle in the doorway made Scotty draw back. "Come, Isabel,"
said the tall lady. She was a very pale lady, with a haughty, weary
look in her eyes; and Scotty wondered how the little girl could catch
hold of that silk dress so fearlessly.

"Goo-bye," she said, pausing a moment. "Goo-bye, little boy." She
poked the fur-lined hood very close to his face, and Scotty drew b