amond in the centre; he
carried a gold-headed stick, and took snuff out of a presentation box.

"His son Sandie was my age to a year, and many a ploy we had together;
there was the jackdaw's nest in the ivy on the old tower we harried
together," and the General could only indicate the delightful risk of
the exploit. "My father and the minister were pacing the avenue at the
time, and caught sight of us against the sky. 'It's your rascal and
mine, Laird,' we heard the minister say, and they waited till we got
down, and then each did his duty by his own for trying to break his
neck; but they were secretly proud of the exploit, for I caught my
father showing old Lord Kilspindie the spot, and next time Hay was up
he tried to reach the place, and stuck where the wall hangs over. I
'll point out the hole this evening; you can see it from the other side
of the den quite plain."

[Illustration: "Many a ploy we had together."]

"Sandie went to the church--I wish every parson were as straight--and
Kilspindie appointed him to succeed the old gentleman, and when I saw
him in his study last month, it seemed as if his father stood before
you, except the breeches and the frill; but Sandie has a marvellous
stock--what havers I 'm deivin' you with, lassie."

"Tell me about Sandie this minute--did he remember the raiding of the
jack-daws?"

"He did," cried the General, in great spirits; "he just looked at me
for an instant--no one knew of my visit--and then he gripped my hands,
and do you know, Kit, he was . . . well, and there was a lump in my
throat too; it would be about thirty years, for one reason and another,
since we met."

"What did he say? the very words, dad," and Kate held up her finger in
command.

"'Jack, old man, is this really you?'--he held me at arm's
length--'man, div ye mind the jackdaw's nest?'"

"Did he? And he 's to be our padre. I know I 'll love him at once.
Go on, everything, for you 've never told me anything about Drumtochty."

"We had a glorious time going over old times. We fished up every trout
again, and we shot our first day on the moor again with Peter Stewart,
Kilspindie's head keeper, as fine an old Highlander as ever lived.
Stewart said in the evening, 'You 're a pair of prave boys, as becometh
your fathers' sons,' and Sandie gave him two and fourpence he had
scraped for a tip, but I had only one and elevenpence--we were both
kept bare. But he knew better than to refuse our offerings,