of Tyee, McKaye
was still the greatest hero in the world. To his wife, The Laird was
no longer a hero, although in the old days of the upward climb, when
he had fiercely claimed her and supported her by the sweat of his
brow, he had been something akin to a god. As for Elizabeth and Jane,
his daughters, it must be recorded that both these young women had
long since ceased to regard their father as anything except an
unfailing source of revenue--an old dear who clung to Port Agnew,
homely speech, and homely ways, hooting good-naturedly at the
pretensions of their set, and, with characteristic Gaelic
stubbornness, insisting upon living and enjoying the kind of life that
appealed to him with peculiar force as the only kind worth living.

Indeed, in more than one humble home in Port Agnew, it had been said
that the two McKaye girls were secretly ashamed of their father. This
because frequently, in a light and debonair manner, Elizabeth and Jane
apologized for their father and exhibited toward him an indulgent
attitude, as is frequently the case with overeducated and
supercultured young ladies who cannot recall a time when their
slightest wish has not been gratified and cannot forget that the good
fairy who gratified it once worked hard with his hands, spoke the
language and acquired the habits of his comrades in the battle for
existence.

Of course, Elizabeth and Jane would have resented this analysis of
their mental attitude toward their father. Be that as it may, however,
the fact remained that both girls were perfunctory in their
expressions of affection for their father, but wildly extravagant in
them where their mother was concerned. Hector McKaye liked it so. He
was a man who never thought about himself, and he had discovered that
if he gave his wife and daughters everything they desired, he was not
apt to be nagged.

Only on one occasion had Hector McKaye declared himself master in his
own house, and, at the risk of appearing paradoxical, this was before
the house had been built. One day, while they still occupied their
first home (in Port Agnew), a house with a mansard roof, two towers,
jig-saw and scroll-work galore, and the usual cast-iron mastiffs and
deer on the front lawn, The Laird had come gleefully home from a trip
to Seattle and proudly exhibited the plans for a new house.

Ensued examination and discussion by his wife and the young ladies.
Alas! The Laird's dream of a home did not correspond with that