y."
But that was none of his business "what-e-ver."

As the little old lady brooded over the matter, she resolved to say
nothing of the meeting to Milly. She happened to possess a spice of
humour, and thought it might be well to wait until the youth should
call, and then, after forgiveness sought and obtained, introduce him at
Kinlossie as the young man who ran her down in London!

Meanwhile Barret walked himself into a better state of mind, clambered
to a nook on the face of one of the cliffs, and sat down to meditate and
consider what was best to be done.

Although he had not gone out that day to shoot, but to botanise, he
carried a light double-barrelled shot gun, in case he might get a chance
at a hare, which was always acceptable to the lady of Kinlossie.

While the incidents just described were being enacted at the base of the
Eagle Cliff higher up, on a distant part of the same cliff, MacRummle
might have been seen prowling among the grey rocks, with the spirit of
Nimrod, and the aspect of Bacchus.

It was the habit of MacRummle, being half blind, to supplement his
vision with that peculiar kind of glasses which support--or refuse to
support--themselves on the human countenance by means of the nose.
These, although admirably adapted for reading, and even for quietly
fishing by the river-side, he found to be miserably unsuited for
sporting among the cliffs, for they were continually tumbling off as he
stumbled along, or were twitched off by his rifle when he was in the act
of making false points.

Perseverance was, however, the strong point in the old man's character--
if it had a strong point at all. He replaced the glasses perpetually,
and kept pointing persistently. He did little more than point, because
the thing that he pointed at, whatever it was, usually got out of the
way before MacRummle obtained a reliable aim. With a shot gun he might
have done better, for that weapon admits of snap-shooting, with some
chance of success, even in feeble hands. But the old man was ambitious.
His object was to "pot" something, as he expressed it, with a single
ball. Of course it was not all pointing. He did fire occasionally,
with no other result than awaking the echoes and terrifying the rabbits.
But the memory of his former success with the same weapon was strong
upon him, and perseverance, as we have said, was rampant. On the whole,
the fusillade that he kept up was considerable, much to the amusement of