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“Did you see much of Malcolm?”

“I saw him only once.”

“What did you think of him?”

The consul in so brief a period had been unable to judge.

“You wouldn’t think I was half engaged to him, would you?”

The consul was obliged again to protest that in so short an interview he had been unable to conceive of Malcolm’s good fortune.

“I know what you mean,” said the girl lightly. “You think he’s a crank. But it’s all over now; the engagement’s off.”

“I trust that this does not mean that you doubt his success?”

The lady shrugged her shoulders disdainfully. “That’s all right enough, I reckon. There’s a hundred thousand dollars in the syndicate. Maw put in twenty thousand, and Custer’s bound to make it go–particularly as there’s some talk of a compromise. But Malcolm’s a crank, and I reckon if it wasn’t for the compromise the syndicate wouldn’t have much show. Why, he didn’t even know that the McHulishes had no title.”

“Do you think he has been suffering under a delusion in regard to his relationship?”

“No; he was only a fool in the way he wanted to prove it. He actually got these boys to think it could be filibustered into his possession. Had a sort of idea of ‘a rising in the Highlands,’ you know, like that poem or picture–which is it? And those fool boys, and Custer among them, thought it would be great fun and a great spree. Luckily, maw had the gumption to get Watson to write over about it to one of his friends, a Mr.–Mr.–MacFen, a very prominent man.”

“Perhaps you mean Sir James MacFen,” suggested the consul. “He’s a knight. And what did HE say?” he added eagerly.

“Oh, he wrote a most sensible letter,” returned the lady, apparently mollified by the title of Watson’s adviser, “saying that there was little doubt, if any, that if the American McHulishes wanted the old estate they could get it by the expenditure of a little capital. He offered to make the trial; that was the compromise they’re talking about. But he didn’t say anything about there being no ‘Lord’ McHulish.”

“Perhaps he thought, as you were Americans, you didn’t care for THAT,” said the consul dryly.

“That’s no reason why we shouldn’t have it if it belonged to us, or we chose to pay for it,” said the lady pertly.

“Then your changed personal relations with Mr. McHulish is the reason why you hear so little of his progress or his expectations?”

“Yes; but he don’t know that they are changed, for we haven’t seen him since we’ve been here, although they say he’s here, and hiding somewhere about.”

“Why should he be hiding?”

The young girl lifted her pretty brows. “Maybe he thinks it’s mysterious. Didn’t I tell you he was a crank?” Yet she laughed so naively, and with such sublime unconsciousness of any reflection on herself, that the consul was obliged to smile too.

“You certainly do not seem to be breaking your heart as well as your engagement,” he said.

“Not much–but here comes maw. Look here,” she said, turning suddenly and coaxingly upon him, “if she asks you to come along with us up north, you’ll come, won’t you? Do! It will be such fun!”

“Up north?” repeated the consul interrogatively.

“Yes; to see the property. Here’s maw.”

A more languid but equally well-appointed woman had entered the room. When the ceremony of introduction was over, she turned to her daughter and said, “Run away, dear, while I talk business with–er–this gentleman,” and, as the girl withdrew laughingly, she half stifled a reminiscent yawn, and raised her heavy lids to the consul.

“You’ve had a talk with my Elsie?”

The consul confessed to having had that pleasure.

“She speaks her mind,” said Mrs. Kirkby wearily, “but she means well, and for all her flightiness her head’s level. And since her father died she runs me,” she continued with a slight laugh. After a pause, she added abstractedly, “I suppose she told you of her engagement to young McHulish?”