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Updated: June 26, 2025
One beautiful Sunday morning while the party assembled in Kinlossie House was at breakfast, a message was brought to the laird that he "wass wantit to speak wi' the poy Tonal'." "Well, Donald, my lad, what want ye with me this fine morning?" asked the laird, on going out to the hall. "I wass telt to tell ye the'll be no kirk the day, for the minister's got to preach at Drumquaich."
I cannot tell you how grateful I am to you, Mr Barret, for rescuing the poor girl from her perilous position." "I count myself fortunate indeed in having been led to the spot so opportunely," said Barret; "and I sincerely hope that no evil effects may result from her injuries. May I ask if she resides permanently with you at Kinlossie?"
Now, when the events which we have described were taking place on the mountains of Loch Lossie, a very different scene was occurring in the nursery of Kinlossie House. In that interesting apartment, which was one of the chief country residences of the spirits Row and Smash, little Flora was seated all alone in the afternoon of that day.
It was the habit of our three friends Bob Mabberly, John Barret, and Giles Jackman during their residence at Kinlossie, to take a stroll together every morning before breakfast by the margin of the sea, for they were fond of each other's company, and Mabberly, as a yachtsman, had acquired the habit of early rising.
"And a good job, too," returned the practical urchin; "for I heard mother say we'd have no fish for dinner to-morrow if somebody didn't catch something." There was a glass conservatory in one corner of the garden at Kinlossie House, to which the laird was wont to retire regularly for the enjoyment of a pipe every morning after breakfast.
Still, they were not out of danger, for a wide stretch of foaming sea lay between them and the shores of Kinlossie, while a gathering storm was darkening the sky behind them. The squall which blew the Kinlossie boat round the Eagle Point was but the precursor of a succession of heavy squalls which quickly changed into a furious gale, compelling Ian Anderson to close reef his sails.
It was near the stone where he had met Milly, and had given way to precipitancy. Not far from the spot also where he had made Milly up into a bundle, with a plaid, and started with her towards Kinlossie. No place could be better than that for his solitary luncheon. He would go there.
"Yes. I am living in the neighbourhood," said Barret bitterly. "Well, I am going to stay at Kinlossie House. You know Kinlossie House, I suppose?" "Oh, yes, I know it." "There is no occasion to look so fierce or bitter, young sir. I am going to be at Kinlossie for some time.
Some such thoughts and feelings caused John Barret to smile as he lay flat on his back, the morning after his arrival, with his hands under his head, surveying the low-roofed but cosy apartment which had been allotted to him in the mansion of Kinlossie.
Considerably excited by these unexpected and, to him, stirring sights, Barret pushed steadily upward, and soon reached a part of the pass whence he could see the valley beyond, with a house in the far distance which, of course, must be Kinlossie standing in a clump of wood on the margin of an inlet of the sea, known by the name of Loch Lossie.
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