--had at first sight lent
color to the foreground by mere contrast, but the corrosion of time
and weather had blackened rather than mellowed the walls in a way which
forcibly reminded the consul of Miss Elsie's simile of the "burnt-down
factory." The view from the square tower--a mere roost for unclean
sea-fowl, from the sides of which rags of peeling moss and vine hung
like tattered clothing--was equally depressing. The few fishermen's huts
along the shore were built of stones taken from the ruin, and roofed in
with sodden beams and timbers in the last stages of deliquescence. The
thick smoke of smouldering peat-fires came from the low chimneys, and
drifted across the ruins with the odors of drying fish.

"I've just seen a sort of ground-plan of the castle," said Miss Elsie
cheerfully. "It never had a room in it as big as our bedroom in the
hotel, and there weren't windows enough to go round. A slit in the
wall, about two inches wide by two feet long, was considered dazzling
extravagance to Malcolm's ancestors. I don't wonder some of 'em broke
out and swam over to America. That reminds me. Who do you suppose is
here--came over from the hotel in a boat of his own, just to see maw!"

"Not Malcolm, surely."

"Not much," replied Miss Elsie, setting her small lips together. "It's
Mr. Custer. He's talking business with her now down on the beach.
They'll be here when lunch is ready."

The consul remembered the romantic plan which the enthusiastic Custer
had imparted to him in the foggy consulate at St. Kentigern, and then
thought of the matter of fact tourists, the few stolid fishermen, and
the prosaic ruins around them, and smiled. He looked up, and saw that
Miss Elsie was watching him.

"You know Mr. Custer, don't you?"

"We are old Californian friends."

"I thought so; but I think he looked a little upset when he heard you
were here, too."

He certainly was a little awkward, as if struggling with some
half-humorous embarrassment, as he came forward a few moments later with
Mrs. Kirkby. But the stimulation of the keen sea air triumphed over the
infelicities of the situation and surroundings, and the little party
were presently enjoying their well-selected luncheon with the wholesome
appetite of travel and change. The chill damp made limp the napkins
and table-cloth, and invaded the victuals; the wind, which was rising,
whistled round the walls, and made miniature cyclones of the torn paper
and dried twigs around t