lf, and is always busy with his fishing,
or writing, or what not. My husband went fishing with him one day, but
they didn't seem to hit it exactly. Mr Macalister is very genial-like
when he's in health, and he can't do with any one who's stand-off. He
always says--"

"But Mrs McNab seems to prefer the younger brother. He must be nice,
or she would not like him so much," interrupted Margot once more; and
Mrs Macalister smiled with unruffled good-humour.

"Oh ay, they're just two dour, silent bodies who understand each other
and each other's ways. He goes and has a crack with her now and then,
and I've even heard them laugh,"--her voice took an awed and incredulous
tone--"but at the table he never raises his voice. Mr Macalister says
he is very close. He couldn't get anything out of him at all, and all
his friends say Mr Macalister ought to have been a lawyer, for he's
just wonderful for getting to the bottom of things. Of course when a
man's run down, he isna at his best. Ye can't judge him, as I say, as
you can when he's in his usual--"

Margot groaned in spirit! To keep Mr Macalister out of the
conversation was evidently a hopeless feat. She saw before her a long
succession of interviews when she would sit caged up in this little
room, listening to the expressions of his virtues and failings! To-
night she felt a moral conviction that she would soon fall asleep under
the strain, and making an excuse of writing home, escaped to her own
room, scribbled a few words on the back of a postcard, wrapped herself
in her golf cape, and went out into the road in search of Ron.

It was still broad daylight, but now the sky was grey and colourless,
and the mountains had ceased to smile. Like grim watching sentinels
they stood on either side, closing in the Glen in a solitude that was
almost awesome to behold. It seemed impossible to believe that twenty-
four hours earlier one had been in the great city, and had considered
Regent's Park countrified! Margot hurried forward to meet Ron, who was
strolling along by himself, the other men of the party being out of
sight. He looked at her with some anxiety, as she approached, and asked
an eager question--

"What's the matter? Aren't you well? I thought you were not coming
out. You look quite white!"

"I'm cold and tired, and--scarey! The beauty seems to have disappeared,
and it's all so grim and grey. I made an excuse and came out to you
with a card to post--bu