Part 6 (1/2)

The man still stood gazing down at the boy. Scotty's face was dark with anger. Store Thompson, who 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 la.s.sie!”

”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 back in alarm for fear she might be going to kiss him. The little girl looked disappointed, nevertheless she smiled radiantly.

”I like you,” she whispered, ”an' I'm comin' to visit you next time I go to Kirsty's; goo-bye!”

She danced off towards the sleigh, and was bundled in among the warm robes. She waved her hand to Scotty as they dashed away, and turned back to gaze at him standing on the step.

”Man,” said Store Thompson, stamping the snow from his feet as he entered, ”Ah niver saw the Captain act like yon before. He was jist,--aye, he was jist what Ah would call inimical; aye, jist inimical, like!”

Store Thompson was more perturbed over the hearty Captain's strange behaviour than he was over the commotion that had just taken place at his door. Such affairs were of too frequent occurrence to call for comment. But when Big Malcolm returned for Scotty, the fierce heat of the conflict still blazed in his eyes and his friend suddenly remembered what had happened.

”Eh, Malcolm, Malcolm, Ah'm sorry for this!” he cried. ”These fichts are no work for a Chreestian man!”

”And would I be sitting here, James Thompson, an' see that piece o'

Popish iniquity kill my son?” demanded Big Malcolm fiercely.

Store Thompson held up his hands. ”What, what?” he cried, ”would it be the Murphys and the MacDonalds again?”

”It was a Fenian raid, James!” shouted Tom Caldwell, coming up to the sleigh, with a proud swagger, ”an' Malcolm here was helpin' us Orangemen put it down, sure!”

Weaver Jimmie, his diffidence all vanished, threw his cap into the air and shouted his old s.h.i.+bboleth, ”They may take Canady, but they'll not be taking Oro!”