ll me!" cried Kenneth, laughing
and choking more than ever.

"I beg your pardon, sir," said Max piteously. "I'm afraid it was all my
fault;" and he looked at the stained cloth.

"There is no need for any apology, Mr Blande. Here, Grant, lay a
doubled napkin over this place, and bring another cup. Pray sit down,
sir."

Max turned shrinkingly toward the table, but glanced nervously from one
dog to the other, and just at that moment, Bruce, who was behind, smelt
his legs.

"Oh!" cried Max, making a rush, as he felt the touch of the dog's cold
nose.

"Here, Kenneth, I've said before that I will not have those dogs in the
dining-room!" cried The Mackhai angrily. "Turn them out."

Kenneth hastily obeyed, the dogs marching out through the French window,
and then sitting down outside and looking patiently in, as dogs gaze who
are waiting for bones.

"What was the matter, Max?" asked Kenneth, as soon as they were
re-seated, and the breakfast once more in progress.

"That dog took hold of my leg."

"What, Sneeshing?"

"No, no. The one you call Dirk."

"He must have thought it was a sheep's leg."

"Kenneth!"

"Yes, father?"

"Go on with your breakfast. I hope you are not hurt, Mr Blande?"

"No, sir, not hurt, but it felt very wet and uncomfortable."

"The dog's play," said The Mackhai quietly. "I don't think he would
bite."

"No, sir, I hope not," faltered Max, as he tried to go on with his
breakfast; "but it felt as if he was going to, and it was startling."

"Yes, of course!" said The Mackhai absently, as he took up his paper,
and the breakfast went on to the end, but to Max it was anything but a
pleasant meal.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN.

MACRIMMON'S LAMENT.

"No, sir, I've asked everybody, and no one has seen them since Bridget
put them to dry. She says they were in front of the fire when she went
to bed."

This was Grant's reply to Max's earnest prayer that he would try and
find his trousers.

"Do you think they could have been stolen?" said Max doubtingly.

"Stolen! My goodness, sir! do you think there is any one about this
house who would steal young gentlemen's trousers?"

"Oh no, of course not," said Max; "but could you get a man to pick a
lock?"

"Pick a pocket, sir!" cried Grant indignantly, for he had not fully
caught Max's question.

"No, no--a lock. I lost the key of my small portmanteau as I came here,
and I can't get at my clothes."

"No, sir, there is no one nearer tha