"Ay," said the boatman, with a lazy, significant glance at the consul,
"it wull be a lesson to me not to trust to a lassie's GANGIN' jo, when
thair's anither yin comin'."

"Give way," said the consul sharply.

Yet his was the only irritated face in the boat as the men bent over
their oars. The young girl and her father looked placidly at the
receding ship, and waved their hands to the grave, resigned face over
the taffrail. The consul examined them more attentively. The father's
face showed intelligence and a certain probity in its otherwise
commonplace features. The young girl had more distinction, with,
perhaps, more delicacy of outline than of texture. Her hair was dark,
with a burnished copper tint at its roots, and eyes that had the same
burnished metallic lustre in their brown pupils. Both sat respectfully
erect, as if anxious to record the fact that the boat was not their
own to take their ease in; and both were silently reserved, answering
briefly to the consul's remarks as if to indicate the formality of
their presence there. But a distant railway whistle startled them into
emotion.

"We've lost the train, father!" said the young girl.

The consul followed the direction of her anxious eyes; the train was
just quitting the station at Bannock.

"If ye had not lingered below with Jamie, we'd have been away in time,
ay, and in our own boat," said the father, with marked severity.

The consul glanced quickly at the girl. But her face betrayed no