sailor, with his
cap held humbly in his hands. "Oh, Hamish," said she, "is Sir Keith so
very ill?"

"Is it ill, mem?" said Hamish; and quick tears sprang to the old man's
eyes. "He iss more ill than you can think of, mem; it iss another man
that he iss now. Ay, ay, who would know him to be Sir Keith Macleod?"

"He wants me to go and see him; and I suppose I have no time to go home
first--"

"Here is the list of the trains, mem," said Hamish, eagerly, producing a
certain card. "And it iss me and Colin Laing, that's my cousin, mem; and
we hef a cab outside; and will you go to the station? Oh, you will not
know Sir Keith, mem; there iss no one at all would know my master now."

"Come along, then, Hamish," said she, quickly. "Oh, but he cannot be so
ill as that. And the long sea-voyage will pull him round, don't you
think?"

"Ay, ay, mem," said Hamish; but he was paying little heed. He called up
the cab, and Miss White stepped inside, and he and Colin Laing got on
the box.

"Tell him to go quickly," she said to Hamish, "for I must have
something instead of luncheon if we have a minute at the station."

And Miss White, as the cab rolled away, felt pleased with herself. It
was a brave act.

"It is the least I can do for the sake of my bonny Glenogie," she was
saying to herself, quite cheerfully. "And if Mr. Lemuel were to hear of
it? Well, he must know that I mean to be mistress of my own conduct. And
so the poor Glenogie is really ill. I can do no harm in parting good
friends with him. Some men would have made a fuss."

At the station they had ten minutes to wait; and Miss White was able to
get the slight refreshment she desired. And although Hamish would fain
have kept out of her way--for it was not becoming in a rude sailor to be
seen speaking to so fine a lady--she would not allow that.

"And where are you going, Hamish, when you leave the Thames?" she asked,
smoothing the fingers of the glove she had just put on again.

"I do not know that, mem," said he.

"I hope Sir Keith won't go to Torquay or any of those languid places.
You will go to the Mediterranean, I suppose?"

"Maybe that will be the place, mem," said Hamish.

"Or the Isle of Wight, perhaps," said she, carelessly.

"Ay, ay, mem--the Isle of Wight--that will be a ferry good place, now.
There wass a man I wass seeing once in Tobbermorry, and he wass telling
me about the castle that the Queen herself will hef on that island. And
Mr. Ross, the