just wash the salt off my face and then come and breakfast with you; and
toast me a couple of herring, Maggie, for I am as hungry as a fisherman,
and I have not tasted a herring since I left Pittenloch."

Three at a little round table, and only some tea, and fish, and oat cake;
and yet, never was there a gayer meal. After it was over, David was eager
to show Allan what he had accomplished, and the young men went together
into Allan's room to examine lexicons and exercises.

David was full of quick interest, and Allan deserved credit for affecting
a sympathy it was impossible for him to feel. In a little while, some one
began to sing and the voice was singularly clear, and sweetly penetrating.
Allan put down the papers in his hand, and listened like one entranced.

"It's just Maggie, and I'm mair astonished at her. She hasna sung a word
since fayther's death. What for is she singing the noo? It's no kind o'
her, and me wi' yoursel' and the books;" said David very fretfully; for he
did not like to be interrupted in his recitations.

"Hush! hush! I would not lose a syllable for all the Latin language,
David."

[Footnote: Words and air by Alexander Nicholson, LL. O.]

[Illustration: Musical notation omitted.]

"My heart is yearning to thee, O Skye,
Dearest of islands!
There first the sunshine gladdened my eye,
On the sea spark-ling;