voice, "And would you not be getting off and coming in and resting a wee
bit before you go further? It would be so good of you, and father would
think it so kind. And he will be there now, if you're looking."

The consul looked. The old man was standing in the doorway of the
cottage, as respectably uncompromising as ever, with the slight
concession to his rural surroundings of wearing a Tam o' Shanter and
easy slippers. The consul dismounted and entered. The interior was
simply, but tastefully furnished. It struck him that the Scotch prudence
and economy, which practically excluded display and meretricious
glitter, had reached the simplicity of the truest art and the most
refined wealth. He felt he could understand Gray's enthusiasm, and by an
odd association of ideas he found himself thinking of the resigned face
of the lonely passenger on the Skyscraper.

"Have you heard any news of your friend who went to Rio?" he asked
pleasantly, but without addressing himself particularly to either.

There was a perceptible pause; doubtless of deference to her father
on the part of the young girl, and of the usual native conscientious
caution on the part of the father, but neither betrayed any
embarrassment or emotion. "No; he would not be writing yet," she at
length said simply, "he would be waiting until he was settled to his
business. Jamie would be waiting until he could say how he was doing,
father?" she appealed interrogatively to the old man.

"Ay, James Gow would not fash himself to write compliments and gossip
till he knew his position and work," corroborated the old man. "He'll
not be going two thousand miles to send us what we can read in the
'St. Kentigern Herald.' But," he added, suddenly, with a recall of