u got there?"

"Pigeon pie," answered Mrs Gordon.

"Mac, that will suit your taste, I know," cried the host with a laugh.

"Yes, it will," slowly returned MacRummle, whose ruddy face and smooth
bald head seemed to glow with satisfaction now that he had got into dry
garments. "Yes, I'm almost as fond of pie as my old friend Robinson
used to be. He was so fond of it that, strange though it may seem to
you, gentlemen, he had a curious predilection for pie-bald horses."

"Come, now, Mac, don't begin upon your friend Robinson till after
dinner."

"Has Archie's photography turned out well?" asked Mabberly at this
point. "I do a little in that way myself, and am interested as to the
result of his efforts to-day."

"We cannot know that before to-morrow, I fear," replied Mrs Gordon.

"Did I hear you ask about Archie's work, Mabberly?" said the laird,
interrupting. "Oh! it'll turn out well, I have no doubt. He does
everything well. In fact, all the boys are smartish fellows; a little
self-willed and noisy, perhaps, like all boys, but--"

A tremendous crash in the room above, which was the nursery, caused the
laird to drop his knife and fork and quickly leave the room, with a look
of anxiety, for he was a tender-hearted, excitable man; while his quiet
and delicate-looking wife sat still, with a look of serenity not
unmingled with humour.

"Something overturned, I suppose," she remarked.

In a few minutes her husband returned with a bland smile.

"Yes," he said, resuming his knife and fork; "it was Junkie, as usual,
fighting with Flo for the black doll. No mischief would have followed,
I daresay, but Archie and Eddie joined in the scrimmage, and between
them they managed to upset the table. I found them wallowing in a sea
of porridge and milk--that was all!"

CHAPTER FIVE.

PLANS, PROSPECTS, AND A GREAT FIGHT.

There is something very enjoyable in awaking in a strange bedroom with a
feeling of physical strength and abounding health about one, with a
glorious, early sunbeam irradiating the room--especially if it does not
shine upon one's face--with a window opposite, through which you can see
a mountain rising through the morning mists, until its summit appears to
claim kindred with the skies, and with the consciousness that work is
over for a time, and recreation is the order of the day.

Some such thoughts and feelings caused John Barret to smile as he lay
flat on his back, the morning after his arriv