"Can you tell me which is Croft Lochay?"
The smith leant on his pitchfork--he had been up at the hay--and eyed
Gwendolen and myself with friendly interest.
"Ye'll be the gentry from London Mistress McDiarmat is expectin'?"
"And which is the way to her house?"
"Well", said the smith, shading his eyes as he peered up at the Ben, "ye
can't see it rightly from here, as it lies behind yon knowe. It's a
whole year whatever since I hev not been up myself; but if you follow
the burn----"
I glanced at Gwen and saw that she shared my satisfaction. To cross the
edge of civilisation had for months past been our hearts' desire; and to
have achieved a jumping-off place only approachable by a burn exceeded
our wildest ambitions.
We thanked the smith, and set off on our expedition up the mountain
side.
"We twa hae paidlit in the burn", sang Gwendolen as she skipped like a
goat from stone to stone. "O Jack, isn't it too primitive and
delightful!"
"Rather", said I, inhaling great draughts of the mountain air.
"Aren't you hungry?"
"Rather", I repeated. "Wonder what there'll be to eat."
"Oh, I don't care what it is. Anything will be delicious. Is that the
house, do you think?"
I looked up and saw above us a low white-washed shanty covered with
thatch which was kept in its place by a network of laths. A few heavy
stones were evidently designed to keep the roof from blowing off in
winter storms.
"No", said Gwen. "That must be the cowhouse byre, don't you call it?"
"I'm not so sure", said I.
While we were still uncertain, a figure came to the door and bade us
welcome.
"Come in, come in. Ye'll be tired with the travelling, and ye'll like to
see the rooms."
We acquiesced, and Mistress McDiarmat led the way into the cowhouse.
"Shoo!" she cried as she opened the door of the bedroom. "Get away,
Speckle! The hens _will_ lay their bit egg on the bed, sir."
"What fresh eggs we shall get!" cried Gwen, delighted with this fresh
proof of rusticity and with the Gaelic gutturals with which Mistress
McDiarmat emphasized her remarks to Speckle.
The "other end" was furnished with two hard chairs, a table and a bed.
"Fancy a bed in the dining-room and hens in your bed!" said Gwen, in the
highest of spirits. "And here comes tea! Eggs and bacon--Ah! how lovely
they smell, and how much nicer than horrid, stodgy dinners! And
oatcakes--and jelly--and the lightest feathery scones! O Jack, isn't it
heavenly?"
"Rather", I agreed, beginning the meal with tremendous gusto. The eggs
and bacon disappeared in the twinkling of an eye, and then we fell to on
the light feathery scones. "Wish we hadn't wasted a fortnight's time
and money in ruinous Highland hotels. Wonder what Schiehallion thinks of
hot baths and late dinners, not to speak of waiters and wine-lists."
"I suppose", remarked Gwendolen, "one _could_ get a bath at the
Temperance Inn we passed on the road?"
"Baths!" cried I. "Why, my dear, one only has to go and sit under the
neighbouring waterfall." Gwen did not laugh, and looking up I saw she
had stopped in the middle of a scone on which she had embarked with
great appetite.
"Try an oat-cake", I suggested.
"No, thanks", said Gwen.
"A little more jelly?"
Gwen shook her head.