"Oh you dirty thing!" said Flora, seating herself on her father's knee,
and gazing remonstratively into his face.

A quiet smile played on the dark visage of the elder McLeod as he kissed
her, and said:--

"How could you expect us, Flo, to keep things very tidy in a place like
this, where we've had to work hard with our axes every day and all day,
and no woman to help us in domestic affairs? Why, sometimes we've been
so tired at the end of a day, that instead of cleaning up, we have
tumbled into bed, boots and all! But there _is_ one little corner of
our otherwise dirty hut which we have reserved for lady-visitors. See
here!"

He rose, unlocked a little door in a corner of the dining-hall, and
throwing it open, disclosed to the astonished gaze of his visitors a
small apartment which was a perfect marvel of cleanliness and propriety.
True, it was a very simple and, what may be styled, a home-made
apartment. The walls, floor, and ceiling were of unpainted wood, but
the wood was perfectly fresh, and smelt pleasantly of resin. The window
was preposterously small, with only four squares of glass in it, and it
was curtained with mere calico, but the calico was rose-coloured, which
imparted a delightfully warm glow to the room, and the view from the
window of pine-woods and cliffs, and snow-fields, backed by the distant
sea, was magnificent. Two little beds in the corner furthest from the
window looked so snug that the tendency of beholders to lie down and go
to sleep forthwith was only overcome by a sensation of fear lest the
fairies, to whom they unquestionably belonged, might object. There was
a rather clumsily-made chest of drawers in one corner, the workmanship
of Kenneth; a book-shelf fashioned by Ian; and a table, with three
chairs, made by McLeod senior.

"Oh, how kind of you," said Flora to her father, when she afterwards sat
with him alone in this boudoir, and looked round on everything with the
deepest interest.

"Well, it was natural that I should get ready a comfortable place for my
only flower."

"Your _only_ flower," exclaimed Flora, "why, what do you call Ian, and
Kenneth, and Roderick?"

"Not flowers, certainly," replied her father, pulling her down on his
knee; "they may be regarded as useful vegetables, if you will, but they
are scarcely flowers that one likes to fondle."

"There, now, sir, you have fondled me enough at present, so tell me all
about yourself and your doings."

"Tell me f