Norman out again whenever he likes, and I
hope that I shall be able to draw him farther than I did to-day," she
said quietly.

Mrs Maclean was a very kind lady, an old friend of their granny's, and
Fanny thought her very like her; she had the same quiet, but yet firm,
manner, and she seemed to take an interest in what she and Norman said
and did, and to be anxious to amuse them.

Mr Maclean was a Highland gentleman who preferred spending his days
among his native moors and heathery hills, to living in a town and
mixing in the world.

Norman whispered to Fanny that he thought he was an old farmer, when he
first saw him in his tartan shooting-coat and trowsers, with a bonnet on
his head, a plaid over his shoulders, and a thick stick in his hand.
Old as he was, however, he could walk many a mile over those heathery
hills he loved so well, and not only Norman, but Norman's papa, might
have had some difficulty in keeping up with him. He was as kind as Mrs
Maclean, and soon took a great fancy to Fanny; Norman discovered that,
somehow or other, he did not stand so well in his opinion.

The laird, as he was called, now entered the room--"Well, young people,
you took but a short excursion to-day," he observed; "perhaps, Mistress
Fanny, you found the carriage rather heavy to drag, and if you have a
fancy for a row on the loch, as I am going down after luncheon to try
and catch a few trout for dinner, I shall be glad to take you with me."

"Oh, thank you, Mr Maclean, I should so like to go," answered Fanny.
"May we, mamma? may we, granny?"

Mrs Leslie and her mamma willingly gave their consent.

"I must ask you to take care that Norman does not tumble into the water,
though," said Mrs Vallery.

"I will make a line fast to the young gentleman's leg, and soon haul him
out again if he does," answered Mr Maclean, laughing.

"I can take very good care of myself, thank you," said Norman; "but I
should like to see you catch some fish, if they are good big ones."

"There are not finer in any loch in Scotland, but they will not always
rise to the fly," observed Mr Maclean.

As soon as luncheon was over, the laird, carrying his rod and
fishing-basket, and accompanied by his two young friends, set off for
the loch. On their way they were joined by Sandy Fraser, a tall, thin,
old man, with grey hairs escaping from under his bonnet. Sandy had been
Mr Maclean's constant attendant from his boyhood, and had followed him
to many p