el had fallen into his
debating society style. "I mean one has to go further back; all our
habits are shaped by environment."

"One moment, please. I have always wanted to ask some clever person
what environment meant. I asked Colonel MacLeod once, dad, and he said
it was out of the new book on tactics, and he was thankful he had
retired. Now Mr. Carmichael will make it plain," and Kate was very
demure.

"It is rather stupid to use the word so much as people do now," and
Carmichael glanced dubiously at Kate; "scientific men use it for
circumstances."

"Is that all? then do pray say environment. Such a word introduces one
into good society, and gives one the feeling of being well dressed; now
about a Highlander's environment, is it his kilt you are thinking of,
or his house, or what?"

"His country"--and Carmichael's tone had a slight note of resentment,
as of one ruffled by this frivolity--"with its sea lochs, and glens,
and mists. Any one who has been bred and reared at the foot of one of
our mountains will have a different nature and religion from one living
in Kent or Italy. He has a sense of reverence, and surely that is a
good thing."

"Nothing more needed nowadays," the General broke in with much spirit;
"it seems to me that people nowadays respect nobody, neither the Queen
nor Almighty God. As for that man Brimstone, he will never cease till
he has ruined the Empire. You need n't look at me, Kate, for Mr. . . .
Carmichael must know this as well as any other sensible man.

"Why, sir," and now the General was on his feet, "I was told on good
authority at the club last week by a newspaper man--a monstrously
clever man--that Mr. Brimstone, when he is going down to the House of
Commons to disestablish the Church, or the army, or something, will
call in at a shop and order two hundred silk hats to be sent to his
house. What do you call that, sir?"

"I should call it a deliberate--"

[Illustration: "I should call it a deliberate--"]

"_Jeu d'esprit_. Of course it is, dad," and Kate threw an appealing
glance to Carmichael, who had sprung to his feet and was standing
stiffly behind his chair, for he was a fierce Radical.

"Perhaps it was, lassie--those war correspondents used to be sad
rascals--and, at any rate, politics are bad taste. Another cheroot,
Mr. Carmichael? Oh, nonsense; you must tell my daughter more about
your Highlanders. They are a loyal set, at any rate, and we all admire
that."